GUAR1X/MAN 


Alexander  Black 


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and          t      n    e 

GUAUDSMM3 


LLNIY,  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 


Other  Books  by  ALEXANDER  BLACK 

Modern  Daughters.  Conversations  with 
Various  American  Girls  and  One  Man. 
Fully  illustrated  from  Photographs  taken  by 
the  Author.  8vo ^2.50 

Miss  America.  Pen  and  Camera  Sketches 
of  the  American  Girl.  With  75  illustra 
tions.  8vo $2-$o 

A  Capital  Courtship.  Illustrated  from 
the  Author's  Camera,  izmo  .  .  $1.00 

Miss  Jerry.  A  Love  Story.  Illustrated 
from  the  Author's  Camera.  Neiv  Edition. 
izmo £1.00 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS,  Publishers 


GUARDSMAN 


:•////  /  ;Tr &•''..' *r^     •  •''    \  *',. /"••'.  ^"  '  ^-"^'  :, 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS 
'BY    THE 


CHARLES     SCRIBNER'S     SONS 
NEW     YORK    •     •     •    MDCCCC 


Copyright,  IQOO,  by 
CHARLKS  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


rights 


UNIVERSITY   I'RKSS  .    JOHN   WILSON 
AND    SON     .     CAMBRIDGE     .     U.  S.  A. 


2125859 


FRONTISPIECE Facing  Title 

Facing  Page 

"  Amanda  Maud  had  a  book  in  her  lap  "  .  2 

"  'Did  you  know  the  soldier?'  "  .  .  .  .  8 
"  The  thought  of  Barton  would  not  be  put 

away  " 12 

"  '  Nothing  has  happened  to  Edith? '  "  —  .  .  28 
"  '  I  will  promise  not  to  sit  on  the  table  any 

more  '  :          40 

"  'Now,  be  calm  for  a  moment,  Barton  '"  44 

"  '  Don' t  speak ! '  she  commanded  tremulously  "  52 
"  When  he  had  sketched  her  in  the  green  vista 

of  the  valley  " 60 

"Yes,  it  was  Marcus  Hadleigh  "  ....  64 

"  '  What  are  you  doing  with  your  gun? '  "  .  72 

"  '  It  's  all  right,  Joe,  I'm  the  real  thing  '  "  .  86 
"'Amanda,  you  ain't  got  no  patriotism  in 

you'  " 98 

vii 


THE     GIRL     <Sr    THE     GUARDSMAN 

Facing  Page 

"  Hadleigh's  face  was  bending  over  him"  .      .  108 

"The  train  worried  and  sickened  him  "       .      .  i  10 

"  It  was  like  trying  to  forget  his  fever  "        .      .  i  20 

"  But  she  had  passed  down  the  stair"    .      .      .  125 

"  Re-reading  a  letter  from  Joe  " 130 

"'  You  needn't  'a'  been  so  rough,  Amanda! '  132 

"  Her  uncle  paused  at  the  door  "       ....  i  50 

"'What  does  she  suggest?'  demanded  Barton"  156 

"  '  You  should  take  my  word  '            ....  168 

"  It  was  Amanda  Maud  " i  86 

"  Nothing  was  what  it  had  been  "    .     .     .     .  198 
"  '  It   is    after    twelve    o'clock,    and     you    are 

elected  '  "    ,  210 


TART 
ONE 


mg 


MANDA    MAUD 

WIGGINS  had  a  book 
in  her  lap  and  some 
thing  on  her  mind. 
Amanda  Maud  was 
seated  on  the  floor, 
her  feet  crossed  like 
a  Turk's  or  a  tailor's, 
her  knees  improvis- 
book-rack.  Only  Providence 


knows   why   the    book  was    Milton. 
Certainly    Milton     never    was     more 


THE     GIRL    &-    THE     GUARDSMAN 

completely  encompassed  by  femin 
inity. 

The  girl  had  looked  into  various 
volumes  which  lay  near  the  open 
bookcase.  She  had  pursued  the  un- 
literary  method  of  review  which 
consists  in  opening  the  book  in  the 
middle  and  letting  the  pages  spin 
under  the  thumb.  Nothing  which 
she  had  discovered  by  this  exhaustive 
system  of  examination  had  definitely 
aroused  her  interest  in  the  books  at 
hand.  Nor  had  an  occasional  strug 
gle  with  a  whole  page  of  verse, 
here  and  there,  seemed  to  gratify 
the  impulse  which  had  led  her, 
after  dusting  the  bookcase  daily  for 
some  months,  finally  to  search  its 
contents. 

Yes,  these  pluckings  from  the  tree 
of  literature  had  for  Amanda  Maud  a 


Amauda  Maud  bad  a 
book  in  her  A.?/>." 


flat  taste,  when  they  did  not  repel  her 
by  a  puckery  flavor.  Such  is  the  fate 
of  books. 

When  Miss  Lynwood  came  into 
the  library  she  was  not  astonished  to 
find  Amanda  Maud  on  the  floor, 
since  that  position  entirely  conformed 
to  the  girl's  habit,  but  Miss  Lynwood 
was  not  wholly  free  from  a  sense  of 
curiosity  as  to  the  books. 

"  Amanda,"  said  Miss  Lynwood, 
in  a  tone  designed,  perhaps,  to  elicit 
confidences,  "  I  never  knew  that  you 
cared  for  the  poets." 

"  I  don't,  Miss  Edith,"  admitted 
Amanda.  "  I  can't  see  's  there  's 
much  in  them — just  a  lot  of  words. 
There  's  one  man  here  don't  seem  to 
know  even  how  to  make  his  words 
rhyme  together.  I  wonder  people 
waste  so  much  good  money  in  books. 
3 


THE    GIRL    <5r    THE    GUARDSMAN 

There 's  more  fair  readin'  in  the 
almanac,  I  think.'* 

"  Perhaps,  Amanda,  you  did  n't  find 
the  right  poets.  There  are  all  sorts, 
you  know." 

"  Maybe,"  said  Amanda,  absently 
staring  at  Miss  Lynwood's  back  hair. 
Presently  Amanda  broke  out  with : 
"  Miss  Lynwood,  what  is  love,  any 
way?" 

Miss  Lynwood  turned  to  gaze  at 
Amanda's  round,  unemotional  coun 
tenance.  "  Amanda,  how  long  have 
you  been  in  this  state  ?" 

"  Ever  since  I  came  from  Pennsyl 
vania,  Miss  Edith." 

Miss  Lynwood  chuckled.  "  I 
did  n't  mean  that,  Amanda.  How 
long  have  you  been  wondering  what 
love  is  ? " 

"O,"  returned  Amanda,  liberating 

4 


THE     GIRL    £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

an  enigmatical  smile.  "  I  don't 
know  's  I  could  tell  you  exactly." 
Then  a  new  whimsical  gleam  crept 
into  her  eyes,  "  It  's  been  comin'  on 
quite  a  while." 

Miss  Lynwood  was  adjusting  some 
flowers  at  the  window.  "  Amanda," 
she  said  presently,  "  it  is  very  danger 
ous  when  it  comes  on  gradually  like 
that." 

"Is  it,  Miss  Edith?"  Amanda 
was  following  the  girl  at  the  window, 
following  in  her  big-eyed,  unanalyti- 
cal  way  the  fine,  serious  profile,  the 
soft,  steady  look,  the  cut  of  the  lips 
that  contradicted  their  own  smile. 
"  Well,  before  I  knowed  Joe  Gribsey 
I  never  thought  of  such  things,  and 
that  's  no  lie." 

"  Joe  Gribsey  ? "  repeated  Miss 
Lynwood.  "  Amanda,  I  don't  be- 
5 


THE     GIRL     &•    THE    GUARDSMAN 

lieve  there  is  such  a  person.  I  haven't 
seen  him,  and  I  don't  believe  you 
have.  You  have  just  imagined  him, 
or  read  of  him  in  a  book." 

This  seemed  to  amuse  Amanda 
Maud.  "  You  're  dead  wrong,  Miss 
Edith.  There  's  a  Joe  Gribsey,  all 
right.  You  never  seen  him,  because 
he  can't  get  out." 

"  Can't  get  out  ?  Why,  where  is 
he?  He  isn't  a  —  a  prisoner,  is 
he  ? " 

"  No,  Miss  Edith,  he 's  only  a 
janitor.  He  can't  get  out  only  about 
one  night  in  the  month,  so  mostly  I 
go  and  see  him  now." 

Miss  Lynwood's  eyelids  twitched. 
"  You  are  very  good  to  him,  Amanda. 
I  hope  he  appreciates  your  great  con 
sideration  for  him." 

"  I    guess    he     does,    Miss    Edith. 


THE    GIRL    &•    THE    GUARDSMAN 

He  lets  on   to    be    pretty    far    gone. 
But  you  can't  tell." 

"Where  is  your  janitor,  Amanda?" 

Amanda  knitted  her  heavy  brows 
and  nibbled  at  her  finger.  It  was 
characteristic  that  she  should  fail  in 
such  exact  knowledge.  "  I  forget 
the  name  of  the  buildin'.  There  's  a 
lot  of  studios  on  the  top  floor.  Gen 
erally  I  see  Joe  up  there.  It 's  nice 
and  quiet.  There  's  one  studio  that 
nobody  's  been  in  for  a  long  time. 
The  artist  went  away  to  be  a  soldier. 
And  he  was  killed." 

Miss  Lynwood  seated  herself  near 
her  flowers.  "  What  was  his  name, 
Amanda  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  's  I   could  remem 
ber —  O     yes  !  "     pursued     Amanda, 
delighted  at  her  feat  of  recollection, 
"  Barton,  Miss  Edith  ;   his  name  's  on 
7 


THE    GIRL    <5r    THE    GUARDSMAN 

the  door.  Joe  often  speaks  about 
him.  He  says  that  the  soldier  said  if 
he  died  the  place  was  to  be  kept  just 
as  it  was  for  a  friend  of  his  'n  who  was 
to  come  from  Europe  or  somewhere 
-  why,  what 's  the  matter,  Miss 
Edith."  Miss  Lynwood's  head  had 
drooped  until  it  touched  her  hand. 
"  Did  you  —  did  you  know  the 
soldier?" 

"  Yes,  Amanda." 

"O  —  was   he    the   one?      Some 
body  told  me  "... 

Miss  Lynwood  was  silent,  though 
she  lifted  her  head  again  resolutely. 

"  It 's  too  bad,"  murmured  Am 
anda,  uncomfortably.  "  It 's  too  bad. 
I  guess  Joe  did  n't  know  about  that. 
.  .  .  No,  I  guess  he  did  n't.  But 
don't  you  care,  Miss  Edith.  There  's 
lots  more.  That  's  what  I  tell  Joe 
8 


THE     GIRL    &•    THE    GUARDSMAN 

when  he  says  I  never  would  find  any 
body  to  think  as  much  of  me  as  he 
does  and  wait  so  long." 

"  I  wonder  if  you  love  Joe  Gribsey, 
Amanda  ?  "  Miss  Lynwood  was  star 
ing  through  the  window,  out  across 
the  garden  to  the  low  hills  and  the 
September  sky,  a  bitter  humor  wrench 
ing  her  lips.  Then  she  forgot  her  own 
question. 

"  Well,  now  that 's  just  what  I 
don't  know,  Miss  Edith.  I  tell  him 
I  must  think  a  good  deal  of  him  to 
climb  five  flights  of  steps  and  sit  in 
a  lonesome  place  to  talk  to  him. 
But  he  's  such  a  fool ;  you  know  what 
I  mean,  Miss  Edith.  He  ain't  got 
no  sense.  Mother  says  that  most 
men  are  that  way.  Then  the  next 
minute  she  tells  me  it  's  a  pity  I 
can't  find  somebody  '11  have  me." 
9 


THE    GIRL     <Sr    THE     GUARDSMAN 

Edith  was  not  listening.  Her 
thoughts  were  away  to  an  October 
night  when  she  bade  her  soldier 
good-bye  ;  to  that  frightful  day  in 
January  when  news  came  that  he 
had  fallen  during  a  desperate  struggle 
in  the  thickets  of  Luzon  ;  to  that 
poignantly  bright  day  in  March  when 
the  troop  came  home  —  came  home 
without  him  ;  to  that  mellow  day 
in  August,  one  of  those  days  that 
urge  us  to  forget,  when  Hadleigh, 
his  friend  and  fellow  trooper,  had 
asked  her  to  marry  him. 

A  thousand  times  in  the  brief 
weeks  that  had  passed  since  then  she 
had  asked  herself  whether  her  an 
swer  to  Hadleigh  was  a  disloyalty 
to  the  dead,  whether,  indeed,  it  was 
not  a  disloyalty  to  Hadleigh,  who 
knew  of  the  betrothal,  but  who 


THE     GIRL    Gr    THE     GUARDSMAN 

scarcely  could  know  all  that  it 
meant  to  her.  She  had  tried  to  tell 
Hadleigh  everything,  but  the  protest 
of  a  woman  who  yields  is  an  empty 
protest.  She  had  let  the  genuine 
ness  of  Hadleigh's  devotion  justify 
her  in  forgetting  her  own  ideals. 
Her  conscience  resented  that  forget- 
fulness,  and  her  punishment  already 
had  begun.  The  thought  of  Barton 
would  not  be  put  away.  Her  fancy 
had  followed  every  turn  of  his  for 
tunes  in  those  first  days.  She  had 
liked  to  think  that  she  was  not 
sentimental ;  but  some  of  that  con 
fidence  had  gone.  After  the  news 
came,  there  was  a  horrible  period, 
black  as  the  blackest  night,  in 
which  she  saw  his  dead  face  lying 
among  the  weeds,  and  some  terrible 

wound  .    .   . 

ii 


THE    GIRL    <£r     THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  My  dear  !  " 

Mr.  Amos  Tibbetts  stood  in  the 
library  door,  his  shaven  lips  working 
impatiently,  the  tufts  of  gray  hair 
that  winged  his  countenance  quiver 
ing  in  unwonted  excitement. 

"  My  dear  —  where  is  she  ? ' 

"  Who,   uncle?" 

"  Where  is  she  ?  Where  is  that 
exasperating  creature  who  does  work 
and  mischief  about  this  house  ?  " 

"  Amanda  Maud,  uncle  ?  ' 

"  She  's  broken  into  my  room 
again  !  " 

"  But,  uncle  !  " 

"  Broken  in,  I  say,  and  gone 
through  like  a  cyclone.  Ye  gods  ! 
but  these  things  try  a  man's  soul !  I 
can't  find  any  of  my  papers !  There 
were  two  bonds  on  the  desk.  Heaven 
knows  where  they  have  gone  !  Burned, 

I  2 


! 


''  The  thought  of  Barton  would 
not  be  put  jaur." 


THE    GIRL    &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

probably,  or  otherwise  sacrificed  to  a 
savage  frenzy  for  cleaning  up  !  I  tell 
you  " 

"  I  hope  they  are  not  destroyed, 
uncle,"  murmured  Edith,  with  real 
solicitude. 

"  I  told  that  fanatic,"  pursued  Mr. 
Tibbetts,  "  never,  on  pain  of  death, 
to  clean  up  my  room  again.  This 
morning  I  took  the  additional  pre 
caution  of  locking  my  door.  But 
she  either  picked  the  lock  or  climbed 
the  lattice  of  the  porch  and  got 
in  through  the  window." 

"  O,  what  a  whopper  !  " 

Amanda  appeared  between  the  door 
curtains  in  an  attitude  of  pained  if 
outwardly  composed  resentment.  "  I 
never  picked  no  lock  and  I  never 
climbed  no  porch.  You  did  n't 
fasten  your  door  the  second  time 
13 


THE    GIRL    <5r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

you  went  out,  Mr.    Tibbetts,  and   it 
was  disgraceful  in  there." 

Mr.  Tibbetts  was  a  short,  round 
man,  with  a  baby  smoothness  in  his 
face,  eyes  usually  mild  in  expression, 
if  surmounted  by  brows  which  in  his 
later  years  suggested  a  fretful  habit. 
He  now  fastened  upon  the  house 
maid  a  glance  of  concentrated  scorn. 

"  Amanda,"  he  said,  with  uncer 
tain  calmness,  "  I  have  told  you  re 
peatedly,  and  in  plain  United  States, 
that  I  did  n't  want  to  be  cleaned  up, 
put  in  order,  or  otherwise  driven  to 
drink  by  your  infernal  dust-brush 
upheavals." 

"  Why,  Amanda !  "  interposed  Edith, 
not  without  hope  of  averting  serious 
hostilities,  "  I  told  you  never  to  do 
anything  but  make  the  bed  in  Uncle 
Amos's  room." 

14 


THE     GIRL    <2r    THE    GUARDSMAN 

"  Yes,  I  know,  Miss  Edith,  but  it 
did  look  so  indecent  this  mornin'." 

"  What  is  that  to  you?  "  demanded 
Mr.  Tibbetts,  in  a  voice  that  was  in 
tended  to  be  thunderous.  "  Can't 
I  be  indecent  if  I  want  to  without 
soliciting  your  permission  ?  Listen 
to  me  :  If  I  ever  find  you  in 
that  room  again,  I  '11  —  yes,  sir,  I  '11 
pitch  you  into  the  garden  !  Do 
you  understand  ?  -  -  pitch  you  into 
the  garden  !  " 

"  O,  dear  I  "  murmured  Amanda, 
her  imperturbable  face  searching,  it 
might  seem,  for  some  appropriate  ex 
pression  of  dread,  "  I  would  n't  have 
thought " 

"  Where  are  my  bonds  ?  "  inter 
rupted  Mr.  Tibbetts,  in  a  new  thunder. 

"  Your  what,  sir  ?  " 

"  My  bonds !  " 

15 


THE    GIRL    &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  Don't  ask  me.  I  did  n't  take 
nothin'." 

"  Perhaps  not,  but  where  did  you 
put  them  ?  " 

Amanda  shook  her  head.  "  I  only 
cleaned  up  the  place." 

"  Yes,"  snorted  Uncle  Amos, 
"  that 's  all  -  -  just  heaved  things 
around,  just  tossed  valuable  documents 
and  priceless  memoranda  into  crazy 
places,  pitchforked  papers  and  letters 
into  cracks  and  corners  where  I  shall 
never  find  them  —  that's  all  !  " 

"Uncle,"  pleaded  Edith,  "Amanda 
and  I  will  go  and  look  for  the  bonds. 
I  am  sure  that  Amanda  will  never 
disturb  your  room  again." 

"  I  wish  I  had  your  hopeful  dis 
position  ! "  cried  Uncle  Amos,  as  they 
left  him.  "  You  don't  know  her. 

She  '11   be  at   it  again,  unless  you  bar 
16 


THE    GIRL     «&•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

the  door,  fasten  on  iron  safety  shutters, 
and  put  her  in  chains  —  in  the  cellar! 
Only  cleaned  up  the  place  !  "  and  Mr. 
Tibbetts,  with  a  final  snort,  stalked  out 
into  the  garden,  where  he  ruminated 
savagely  among  his  chrysanthemums, 

He  might  have  enjoyed  the 
thought  of  Amanda  confronted  by  her 
own  devastation,  had  it  been  possible 
to  fancy  that  creature  as  possessing  a 
sensibility  that  might  be  assailed  by 
remorse.  It  was  but  too  clear  that 
the  derangement  of  his  room  had 
afforded  her  a  superior  feminine  joy, 
that  she  applied  herself  to  the  rescue 
of  his  sanctuary  as  a  religious  enthusi 
ast  might  have  applied  herself  to  the 
salvation  of  his  soul. 

It  occurred  to  him  to  wonder,  as  it 
had  a  score  of  times  before,  what  had 
implanted  this  form  of  vice  in  woman, 
a  17 


THE     GIRL     <&•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

why  it  was  a  form  of  vice  so  dis 
tinctively  feminine.  In  what  avenue 
of  psychological  study  was  a  man  to 
find  explanation  for  that  form  of  per 
versity  in  women  which  makes  them 
assail  the  natural  symmetry  of  man's 
surroundings  under  the  sad  hallucina 
tion  that  they  are  restoring  order  ? 
Could  any  longing  be  more  pathetic  or 
more  maddening  than  that  to  which 
women  yield  when  they  inflict  upon 
an  absent  or  subdued  man  the  monu 
mental  irony  known  as  cleaning  up  ? 
The  whole  problem  was  profoundly 
inexplicable. 

When  Edith  came  down  the  path 
she  had  the  missing  papers  in  her 
hand.  "  And  Amanda  has  promised, 
uncle,  never  to  do  it  again." 

"  Don't  you  believe  her,  my  dear," 
growled  Uncle  Amos,  taking  his 

18 


THE     GIRL    &•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

bonds  resignedly,  "  the  appetite  is  too 
strongly  rooted.  You  can't  eradicate 
those  cravings  so  easily.  She  may 
swear  to  reform,  and  she  may  mean 
it.  I  have  known  those  things  to 
happen.  But  in  a  few  days,  at  some 
critical  juncture,  when  I  have  the 
topography  of  my  effects  firmly  fixed, 
the  appetite  will  seize  her  once  more, 
and  then  it  will  be  the  old  story. 
O,  I  see,  my  dear,  that  you  don't  feel 
the  annoyance  of  these  things  " — 

"I  assure  you,  uncle,"  protested 
Edith,  but  Uncle  Amos  had  a  keen 
glance. 

"  Yes,  I  know,  I  know.  Never 
theless,  you  don't  feel  —  you  can't 
feel  -  -  the  gravity  of  this  thing.  It 
is  not  to  be  expected.  You  are  too 
young,  and  you  are  a  woman  yourself. 
Your  superior  sense  may  restrain  you, 


THE     GIRL     £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

but  your  instinct,  doubtless,  dulls  your 
resentment  for  this  form  of  destruc- 
tiveness." 

"  Uncle,  I  don't  wish  to  appear 
unsympathetic,  but  should  n't  you 
pardon  something  to  the  spirit  of 
order  -  -  even  if  it  is  imperfectly  ex 
pressed  by  poor  Amanda  ?  " 

"  Order  !  "  returned  Uncle  Amos, 
with  a  fretful  turn ;  "  order  !  That 's 
just  it!  You  call  this  devastation 
order  !  -  -  But  you  can't  reason  about 
these  things  with  a  woman !  You 
can't  make  her  see  that  the  true  order 
is  the  condition  that  she  disturbs.  It 
is  useless.  I  tell  you,  Edith,  that  if 
a  woman  made  the  world,  all  trees 
would  grow  in  straight  lines,  every 
hill  would  be  symmetrically  conical, 
every  river  would  move  at  true  angles. 
A  feminine  creator  would  have  placed 


20 


THE     GIRL     £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

the  planets  in  a  proper  curve,  the 
largest  at  one  end,  the  smallest  at  the 
other,  have  straightened  the  handle 
of  the  Dipper  and  mopped  up  the 
Milky  Way.  Science  has  tried  to 
explain  the  thing  a  thousand  times  by 
saying  that  she  has  no  constructive 
sense.  But  of  course  you  can't  ex 
plain  a  woman.  It  would  be  sacri 
legious  presumption." 

"  It  is  dreadful,  uncle,  to  think  that 
we  have  staggered  science  in  this 
way,  but  you  must  take  my  word  that 
we  are  trying  to  do  better.  At  all 
events,  you  have  Amanda's  promise, 
and  you  have  mine.  Things  will  go 
better." 

"You  mean,  I  suppose,  that  they 
will  not  go, — that  they  will  be  let 
alone.  I  hope  so.  I  am  an  optimist, 
after  all.  I  really  believe  you." 


THE     GIRL    &-    THE     GUARDSMAN 

Then  Mr.  Tibbetts  looked  up.  Edith 
was  in  a  quiet  mood  despite  her 
banter. 

"  I  am  going  out  for  a  little  while," 
she  said  presently.  "  But  I  shall  be 
back  very  soon.  I  am  expecting  a 
caller  at  four.  Amanda  will  be 
away." 

"  Thank  heaven  !  "  muttered  Mr. 
Tibbetts. 

"  If  Mr.  Hadleigh  calls  will  you 
tell  him"- 

"  That  you  slipped  out  ?  " 
"No  —  that  I  am  expecting  him." 
"  Yes,  yes."     Uncle  Amos  gave  her 
a  furtive    glance.      He    followed    her 
toward   the  house.      The  mention  of 
Hadleigh's  name  had  set  him  think 
ing.     That    Hadleigh    affair  was   all 
right,  of  course.      Why  not  ?     It  was 
a  wholly  satisfactory  solution  of  the 


THE     GIRL    Sr    THE     GUARDSMAN 

difficulty.  Yet  Edith  was  strangely, 
ominously  quiet  at  times.  She  did 
not  seem  happy.  She  was  not  the 
Edith  she  had  been  in  those  other 
days — in  the  Barton  era.  No,  she 
certainly  had  changed.  Even  her 
occasional  lightness  could  not  be 
trusted.  It  was  not  real.  "  She 
thinks  too  much  about  the  other  one," 
said  Mr.  Tibbetts  to  himself,  and  this 
was  a  fact  to  be  regretted,  to  be  re 
sented. 

Why  should  a  girl  harbor  a  senti 
mental  notion  of  this  sort  ?  —  for  it 
was  sentimental.  Mr.  Tibbetts  stood 
at  the  window  staring  down  the  road 
in  the  direction  of  her  vanishing  fig 
ure,  watching  the  pale  flicker  of  her 
gown  against  the  dull  greens  of  the 
fading  season.  That  other  affair  was 
ended,  —  ended  in  the  one  final,  irre- 
23 


THE    GIRL    6r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

trievable  way.  When  a  man  is  dead 
he  is  dead,  and  that  is  the  end  of  it. 
Whimpering  will  not  fetch  him  back. 

Unanswerable,  Uncle  Amos,  but 
what  is  this  at  the  library  door  ? 
What  is  this  image  in  khaki  outlined 
against  the  shadow  of  the  hall?  It 
might  have  been  the  image  of  Uncle 
Amos's  thought,  but  it  was  not.  It 
was  a  living  image — Uncle  Amos 
might  have  heard  its  deep  breathing 
had  he  been  less  engrossed  by  his 
reverie. 

Edith,  reasoned  Uncle  Amos,  with 
a  feeling  of  being  entirely  judicial, 
had  been  wise  to  accept  Hadleigh. 
Hadleigh  was  a  good  fellow.  There 
were  a  score  of  reasons  why  a  girl's 
second  choice  should  be  better  than 
her  first.  Why  should  she  be  satis 
fied?  "And  yet,"  Uncle  Amos  shook 
24 


THE     GIRL    <5r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

his  head  slowly,  regretfully,  "she 
thinks  too  much  about  the  other 
one." 

The  other  one  —  heavens  !  was  this 
he  -  -  Barton  in  the  flesh,  Barton  ex 
tending  his  hand,  Barton  the  dead 
back  to  life,  Barton  crying,  "  How 
are  you,  Uncle  Amos  ?  Don't  you 
know  me  in  this  rig  ? " 


rft  Tu 


wo 


OR  the  length  of  an 
incredulous  moment 
Uncle  Amos  was 
speechless.  "  My 

God  !  "   he  gasped    at 
last.       "  Barton  J    you 
alive?"       Then     fol 
lowing     the     impulse 
to  fortify  his  doubt  he 
faltered,  "How  did  you  get  in?"     If 
Barton  had  dropped  through  the  ceil 
ing  he  certainly  might  not  be  real. 
"  Get  in,  Uncle  Amos  ?     Blew  in 

at  the  side  gate,  as  usual !  " 

26 


THE    GIRL    £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  And  you  —  you  actually  are  alive, 
Barton  ?  You  "  — 

"  Yes,  Uncle  Amos,  alive  and 
kicking  -  -  at  the  time  it  took  to  get 
here.  You  all  thought  I  was  dead  — 
and  I  did  have  a  close  call  "  — 

"  But,  Barton  -  -  the  despatches"  — 
"  The     despatches     lied    and     my 
letter    didn't    go.      Everything    went 
wrong.      Where  's    Edith  ?  " 

"  Edith  ?  "  Uncle  Amos's  arms 
dropped.  "  O,  yes,  Edith  "  —  a  new 
emotion  seized  the  man.  "  Barton 
—  this  is  very  unfortunate  ! 

"  Unfortunate  ?     Mr.  Tibbetts  "  - 
"  Understand  me,  Barton  " 
"  I  am  reported  dead,"  went  on  the 
soldier,  scanning  the  other  resentfully, 
a    mystification     behind     his    resent 
ment  ;   "  and  I  am  not  dead.      I  have 
had  a  rough  time  squeezing  back  into 
27 


THE     GIRL    <5r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

the  troop  of  the  living,  and  a  devilish 
journey  home  " 

"Ah!   Barton!  you  don't  see"  — 

"  Mr.  Tibbetts-- what 's  wrong? 
Nothing  has  happened  to  Edith  ? 
She  is  not  " 

"  No,    my   boy,    she    is  n't    yet  - 
but  "  - 

"Is  n't  yet?     Is  she  ill  ?    Tell  me!" 

"  No,  no  !  But  can't  you  see  !  — 
you  are  supposed  to  be  dead.  To  all  ap 
pearances  you  have  been  dead,  Barton/' 

"  I   admit  that." 

"  And  you  have  been  dead  —  as  it 
were  —  for  quite  a  time,  and  during 
that  period  -  -  well,  you  can  see,  Bar 
ton,  that  if  one  man  dies,  a  young 
woman  might  take  up  with  another. 
She  can't  "- 

Barton  moved  impatiently.     "  Par 
don    me,    Mr.    Tibbetts,"    he  cried, 
28 


"  'Nothing  ban  hi 
to  Edith?'" 


THE     GIRL    &•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

catching  the  older  man  by  the  sleeve, 
"  I  don't  want  to  be  rough,  but  have 
it  out.  What  are  you  driving  at  ? 
You  don't  mean  " 

"  Yes,  I  do,  Barton.  Edith  has 
accepted  another  man." 

The  soldier  shrank  as  if  he  had 
received  a  sharp  blow.  "  Whom  ?  " 
he  then  demanded. 

"  Hadleigh,"  returned  Mr.  Tibbetts. 
"  Eh  -  -you  knew  him,  Barton  ?" 

The  soldier  walked  to  the  win 
dow,  folding  his  arms  with  a  quiver 
ing  gesture.  "  O,  yes !  He  is  my 
friend.  .  .  .  She  did  n't  wait  very 
long." 

"  He  did  n't  wait  very  long,  Bar 
ton.  That  was  the  way  of  it.  And 
so  it  was  settled.  You  can  see  at  a 
glance  how  unfortunate  your  coming 

home  is." 

29 


THE     GIRL    &-    THE    GUARDSMAN 

Barton  nodded  slowly.  "  How 
unfortunate  !  '  Then  he  swung 
about  as  if  to  discover  whether  this 
was  not  a  misplaced  jest.  "  This  is 
a  cheerful  welcome,  Mr.  Tibbetts, 
for  a  man  returned  from  the  grave. 
But  your  joke  is  untimely.  In  all 
of  that  long  struggle  back  to  life, 
throughout  the  bitterness  of  my  dis 
appointment  in  finding  that  my  letter 
had  not  left  the  hospital,  during  all 
of  those  hard  weeks  on  the  sea  and 
this  journey  from  the  coast,  I  have 
had  one  thought  to  lift  and  nerve  me. 
I  have  seen  the  light  of  this  house, 
the  dearer  light  of  her  eyes.  And 
when  at  last  I  cross  the  threshold  it  is 
to  be  told  that  I  am  a  disaster  " 

"  But,  Barton,  you  don't  under 
stand  how  dreadfully  untimely,  what 
an  awkward  moment  " 

3° 


THE     GIRL    £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

Again  Barton  caught  him  by  the 
arm.  "Mr.  Tibbetts  ! — if  you  are 
concealing  anything,  if  you  are  de 
ceiving  me-  She  is  n't  being  mar 
ried —  to-day?  " 

"  No,  no,  Barton,  not  that.  Be 
calm,  my  boy,  be  calm  ;  you  must 
admit  that  nothing  is  to  be  gained 
by  rashness.  The  fact  is  that  she  is 
engaged  to  the  other  man." 

"Believing  me  dead." 

"  Yes;  but  don't  be  too  positive  in 
your  inferences,  Barton.  Very  im 
portant  things  have  happened  in  these 
eight  months.  As  a  result  of  this 
new  alliance  —  now,  understand  me, 
Barton,  I  am  simply  unfolding  the 
facts,  placing  before  you  the  history 
of  the  situation." 

"  I  am  listening." 

"  As  a  result,  I  say,  of  this  new 
31 


THE     GIRL    £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

alliance,  the  Hadleigh  crowd  has 
thawed  out  in  a  wonderful  way." 

"  What  is  that  to  me  ? "  hurled 
Barton.  "  Am  I  to  be  comforted 
by  the  fact  that  there  is  a  freeze  or 
a  thaw  in  the  Hadleigh  family  ? " 

"  No,  my  boy,  but  Hadleigh's 
father  is  a  powerful  man,  and  he 
has  seen  a  pretty  chance  to  do  a 
nice  thing  for  Edith  and  me — he 
has  just  taken  it  into  his  obstinate 
old  head  to  put  me  forward  for  Vice- 
President  of  the  Corporation  —  Vice- 
President,  Barton  !  All  going  well 
I  shall  be  elected  to-morrow  -  -  and 
here  you  are  to-day  !  " 

Barton  had  begun  to  pace  the 
floor.  He  now  stopped  and  peered 
at  Mr.  Tibbetts  with  a  hard  smile 
on  his  lips.  "  What  do  you  wish 
me  to  do?"  he  demanded;  "  com- 
32 


THE     GIRL    &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

mit  suicide  ?      It    annoys    me   to    be 
inappropriate." 

"  Barton,"  returned  Mr.  Tibbetts, 
seated  tentatively  on  the  edge  of  a 
chair,  and  bending  forward  with  his 
hands  on  his  knees,  "  Did  you  ever 
hear  of  Enoch  Arden  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  admitted  Barton,  "  and  I 
always  thought " 

"  You  always  thought  he  was  an 
old  fool,  I  suppose,  because  he  turned 
away  and  left  her  with  the  other 
man.  You  are  younger,  Barton  — 
I  am  not  jesting,  Barton,  I  ' 

"  Mr.  Tibbetts,  I  am  not  built  that 
way.  Moreover,  Edith  is  not  mar 
ried  to  the  other  man.  There  is  no 
parallel  or  other  justification  for  your 
pleasantry." 

"  I  insist,  Barton,  that  I  am  not 
jesting/' 

3  33 


THE     GIRL     £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"And  I  insist,  Mr.  Tibbetts,  that 
you  shall  not  torture  me.  Where  is 
Edith?  I  shall  see  her!  Nothing 
that  has  happened  denies  me  that 
privilege." 

Mr.  Tibbetts  placed  a  restraining 
hand  on  the  soldier's  arm.  "  No, 
Barton.  She  is  not  in  the  house.  Be 
patient !  Do  you  want  to  spoil  every 
thing  ?  Do  you  want  to  make  us  all 
unhappy?  Do  you  find  anything  so 
unpardonably  grotesque  in  what  I 
have  said  ?  I  am  not  blaming  you 
for  being  alive." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Barton. 

Mr.  Tibbetts  ignored  the  irony. 
"  You  are  here  and  must  be  reckoned 
with." 

"Now  you  are  talking,"  said 
Barton. 

"  You  being  alive,  there  is  always 
34 


THE     GIRL    <&•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

the  chance  that  Edith  may  throw 
over  Hadleigh." 

"  That  seems  reasonable,"  suggested 
the  soldier. 

"  The  chance,  I  say.  But  you 
need  not  imperil  that  chance.  Will 
you  make  the  most  of  it  by  rushing 
matters?  Take  a  large  view  of  the 
case  —  an  impersonal  view,  Barton, 
and  you  will  see  that  I  am  not  un 
reasonable.  What  am  I  asking  but 
a  proper  pause,  a  proper  caution  ? 
To-day  you  are  a  calamity.  To 
morrow —  after  twelve  o'clock  noon 
—  you  would  be  only  " 

"  Only  an  occurrence,"  offered 
Barton. 

"  Save  your  sarcasm,  Barton.    There 

is  nothing  selfish  in  what  I  am  asking 

of  you.     Ah,  my  dear  boy  !   it  would 

be  a  different    matter    to-morrow  — 

35 


THE    GIRL    £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

after  twelve  noon!     Heavens!    there's 
Edith  ! " 

They  both  had  started.  Mr.  Tib- 
betts  placed  his  hands  fervently  on 
Barton's  shoulders.  "  Barton  !  —  for 
my  sake,  for  her  sake,  for  your  own 
sake,  do  not  show  yourself  yet  —  hide 
yourself  somewhere  here  —  for  this 
time.  Barton!  —  to-morrow' 

It  came  to  Barton  afterward  that 
his  grotesque  scramble  for  conceal 
ment  behind  the  corner  of  the  screen 
near  the  table — a  scramble  in  which 
he  was  feverishly  assisted  by  Mr. 
Tibbetts — cost  him  more  than  the 
most  trying  moment  of  his  cam 
paign.  It  was  only  afterward  that  a 
sense  of  its  absurd  theatricalism  came 
to  him,  for  in  that  moment  every 
thing  else  faded  in  the  sound  of  her 
voice. 

36 


THE     GIRL    <5r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  Why,  uncle  !  are  you  still  upset 
over  Amanda  Maud?  What  a  poor 
philosopher  you  are,  after  all." 

"Yes,  Edith,"  faltered  Mr.  Tibbetts, 
in  a  supreme  effort  to  soften  the  out 
ward  lines  of  his  perturbation.  "  I 
am  a  very  poor  philosopher.  Now, 
with  you,  Edith,  it  is  very  different. 
You  are  a  real  philosopher.  You 
don't  let  things  needlessly  worry  you. 
It --it  is  a  great  gift,"  he  pursued, 
watching  Edith  as  she  crossed  the 
room  in  the  direction  of  the  table,  - 
"  a  great  gift,  Edith !  "  His  hand 
reached  as  if  to  restrain  her.  "  Don't 
sit  on  the  table  !  " 

She  had,  indeed,  followed  a  girlish 
habit,  and  with  one  foot  on  the  floor 
was  swinging  the  other  from  over  the 
corner  of  the  table  in  close  proximity 
to  the  hidden  visitor. 
37 


THE     GIRL    &•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  Why,  what  is  the  matter,  uncle?" 

She  herself  was  in  no  tranquil 
lity  at  that  moment.  Hadleigh 
was  late. 

"  But  it  is  so  extraordinary,"  ex 
claimed  her  uncle,  "  for  a  girl  of  your 
age  to  sit  on  the  table.  Perhaps  I 
am  getting  nervous,  or  I  should 
ignore  such  exhibitions  of  impro 
priety.  However — please  get  off 
the  table!"  This  was  at  the  un 
wonted  spectacle  of  Barton  kissing 
the  hem  of  her  gown,  his  face  as 
white  as  the  hem. 

"What  risks  some  people  take," 
remarked  Mr.  Tibbetts  equivocally, 
as  Edith  crossed  to  the  window. 
"Can't  you  see  that  the  table  might 
upset  or  break  under  you  ?  The  act 
was  not  only  inelegant,  my  dear,  but 
dangerous." 

38 


THE     GIRL    <&•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  Uncle,  you  must  take  a  nerve 
tonic.  You  are  getting  more  excit 
able  every  day." 

"  Then  you,  Edith,  must  consider 
the  condition  of  my  nerves.  It  is  for 
you  not  to  offend  them.  But  don't 
worry  over  me,"  Mr.  Tibbetts  went 
on,  a  furtive  eye  on  the  not  sufficiently 
invisible  soldier.  "  Just  go  and  do 
something  to  occupy  yourself —  to 
amuse  yourself,  my  dear." 

"  The  simple  truth  is,"  said  Edith, 
advancing  upon  Uncle  Amos  with  a 
look  of  perplexed  investigation,  "  that 
I  never  saw  you  act  so  queerly." 

"  There!  "  protested  Mr.  Tibbetts, 
his  voice  rising,  "  you  are  going  to  sit 
on  that  table  again  !  I  can  feel  it  in 
my  bones.  What  makes  you  so  restless 
that  you  have  to  go  about  the  house 
sitting  on  tables  in  this  manner  ? " 
39 


THE     GIRL    &-    THE     GUARDSMAN 

Mr.  Tibbetts  pre-empted  the  corner 
of  the  table.  "  If  you  think  that  the 
decorative  proprieties  require  that 
some  one  should  sit  on  the  table  I 
might  sacrifice  myself,"  and  Mr.  Tib 
betts  essayed  to  lift  one  of  his  plump 
legs  over  the  table  edge.  For  reasons 
directly  associated  with  the  shortness 
of  his  stature  the  effort  was  ludicrously 
unsuccessful. 

"  Fool!  "  thought  Barton.  "  This 
man  is  fit  for  a  farce." 

"  You  are  making  a  great  sacrifice, 
uncle,"  said  Edith,  with  a  shadowy 
smile  and  a  glance  at  her  watch.  "  I 
will  promise  not  to  sit  on  the  table 
any  more." 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear."  Mr. 
Tibbetts  looked  uneasily  after  the  girl 
as  she  moved  away,  and  in  a  moment 

of  irresolution  following  her  departure 

40 


"  '/  will  promise  not  to  sit  un 
the  table  any  more.''  " 


THE     GIRL    &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

he  grunted  to  Barton,  "  Stay  where 
you  are  !  " 

"  What  did  you  say,  uncle  ? "  came 
Edith's  voice  from  the  hall  and  her 
restless  figure  returned  to  the  door 
way. 

"  O !  —  I  —  I  only  remarked, 
Edith,  that  there  is  no  reason  why 
you  should  go  away  angry.  I  am 
a  little  upset  —  by  business  matters, 
you  know ;  and  then  that  Amanda 
Maud  "  - 

It  might  have  been  thought  that 
the  name  summoned  the  irrepressible 
Amanda,  for  at  that  moment  she  por 
tentously  appeared — a  miracle  which 
freshly  astounded  Mr.  Tibbetts,  who 
had  supposed  she  was  out  of  the  house. 
What  special  providence  had  carried 
Barton  to  the  side  door  and  into  the 
library  without  her  knowledge? 

41 


THE     GIRL    &-    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  You  said  I  might  go  out  this 
afternoon,  Miss  Edith." 

"Yes,"  interjected  Mr.  Tibbetts, 
upon  whom  the  effect  of  complicat 
ing  circumstances  bore  more  heavily 
every  moment ;  "  please  let  her  go, 
Edith.  She  needs  more  of  the  open 
air.  She  is  too  much  confined  to  the 
house.  I  have  observed  this  lately. 
It  is  unwise.  If  ever  you  wish  to  go 
out,  Amanda,  ask  me!  " 

"Uncle!"  was  all  that  Edith  ven 
tured  to  say  in  reproof  of  this  extraor 
dinary  interference  in  her  domestic 
authority.  Her  saying  nothing  more 
was,  perhaps,  the  worst  of  rebukes. 

Amanda  bestowed  upon  Mr.  Tib 
betts  one  of  her  inexplicable  looks 
of  inquiry.  Her  habits  of  classifica 
tion  were  necessarily  rudimentary,  and 

she  never  had  succeeded  in  fixing  Mr. 

42 


THE     GIRL    <Sr    THE     GUARDSMAN 

Tibbetts's  place  in  the  order  of  crea 
tion.  At  this  hour  he  seemed  to  her 
to  be  particularly  queer  and  unac 
countable,  though  her  mystification 
was  scarcely  so  deep  as  Edith's. 

The  acute  stage  of  Mr.  Tibbetts's 
perturbation  appeared  in  the  gasp  of 
relief  with  which  he  greeted  what 
appeared  to  be  the  safe  departure  of 
the  two  women  —  Edith  to  her  room, 
Amanda  to  the  outer  world. 

"Ah!  Barton!  you  can  see  what 
a  terrible  affair  this  is  to  me  !  Thank 
heaven  we  are  rid  of  Amanda  Maud. 
But  Edith  --she  will  not  go  out,  and 
we  must  be  careful.  She  is  expecting 
some  one --she  is  expecting  Had- 
leigh." 

Barton  arose  from  the  cramped 
position  in  which  he  had  endured 
more  than  physical  distress.  "  Then 
43 


THE     GIRL     «&•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

I  will  see  her  now ! "  he  said,  with 
ominous  finality. 

Mr.  Tibbetts  clutched  him  des 
perately.  "Hush!"  he  pleaded. 
"  Barton  !  — you  would  n't  spoil  every 
thing  in  your  rash,  impetuous  way  ? 
Listen.  Can  you  expect  to  help  mat 
ters  by  reckless  behavior  ?  Remem 
ber  that  she  has  accepted  him  —  yes, 
I  know  ;  it  was  under  a  misapprehen 
sion,  but  —  hush !  come  with  me  a 
moment !  "  and  Mr.  Tibbetts  half 
dragged  Barton  out  through  the  pas 
sage  into  the  extension  room. 

"  Now,  be  calm  for  a  moment, 
Barton  ! " 

"  Be  calm  yourself  !  "  retorted  Bar 
ton,  wrestling  with  his  growing  im 
patience. 

"  I  'm  calm  enough,  Barton,"  ex 
postulated  Mr.  Tibbetts,  his  eyebrows 
44 


'Now,  /'<'  calm  for  a  mo 
ment.  Marion.'  " 


THE     GIRL    <S-    THE     GUARDSMAN 

twitching.  "  It 's  you.  You  won't 
listen.  You  don't  see  that  this  thing 
has  to  be  approached  with  delicacy  — 
delicacy,  my  friend  !  Of  course  see 
ing  Edith  seems  like  a  very  impera 
tive  necessity  with  you.  But  what 
has  happened,  has  happened.  You 
want  to  brush  all  that  away.  *I  am 
here/  you  say,  l  and  that  changes 
everything.'  But  does  it  change 
everything  ?  Does  it  make  it  less 
dangerous  for  you  to  rush  into  her 
presence  ?  Would  not  that  shock  be 
terrible  in  the  first  place  ? " 

"  Then  go  and  break  it  to  her  as 
you  think  best,"  Barton  demanded. 
He  swung  about  again.  "No,  we 
shall  do  better.' 

"  Better?  "  echoed  Mr.  Tibbetts. 

"What  you  say  may  be  true,  Mr. 
Tibbetts.  If  she  has  become  attached 
45 


THE     GIRL     &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

to  another  there  is  occasion  for  some 
hesitation.  I  have  a  lover's  con 
fidence." 

Mr.  Tibbetts  nodded. 

"  Yet  I  think  I  know  her  better 
than  any  one  else.  Even  if --if  she 
loved  Hadleigh,  I  still  should  go  to 
her.  I  still  should  think  I  had  the 
right  to  go,  understand.  But  I  am 
willing  to  try  her.  When  you  ask 
me  to  wait  until  to-morrow  you  ask 
too  much  "  — 

"  Barton  !  " 

"  You  ask  too  much.  This  night 
would  kill  me  if  I  had  not  seen  her." 
Barton  took  a  turn  across  the  room. 
"Yes,  it  would  kill  me.  But  if  she 
really  loves  him  I  -  -  I  shall  go." 

"What  shall  you  do,  Barton?" 
Mr.  Tibbetts  peered  inquiringly  at 

the    restless    figure    in    khaki    as     it 

46 


THE     GIRL     &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

moved  away  from  him  and  returned 
again.  The  soldier  stopped  in  front 
of  him  and  placed  a  strong  hand  on 
his  shoulder. 

"  This  shall  be  the  way,"  said 
Barton,  with  an  impetuous  slowness. 
"Go  and  tell  her  that  Hadleigh  is 
here." 

"  Hadleigh  ? "  Mr.  Tibbetts  half 
turned  his  head.  "What  do  you 
mean  ? " 

"  I  ask  you  to  go  and  tell  her  that 
Hadleigh  is  here.  I  soon  shall  see 
whether  she  loves  him.  I  could  not 
be  deceived." 

"  Barton,  that  is  absurd.  This 
is  no  jest.  You  may  think  it  fan 
tastic  that  I  should  ask  you  to  con 
ceal  your  return  until  to-morrow. 
But  wise  reasons  affecting  us  all  - 
you  as  well  -  -  are  behind  that  re- 
47 


THE     GIRL    &•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

quest.  Now  you  propose  some  ridic 
ulous  trick.  Tell  her  Hadleigh  is 
here  ?  I  should  feel  forced  to  go 
and  tell  her  that  you  are  here  and 
be  done  with  it." 

"  As  you  like,"  said  Barton,  turn 
ing  away  with  a  gesture  that  was 
undebatable,  "  so  that  you  do  me  the 
justice  to  say  it  quickly." 

Mr.  Tibbetts  left  the  room  in  pro 
found  confusion.  Clearly,  argument 
with  Barton  was  at  an  end.  The 
soldier  was  hopelessly  obstinate  in  his 
determination  to  see  Edith.  There 
was  nothing  more  to  be  done.  If  he 
chose  to  bring  disaster,  there  was  no 
help.  All  the  same  it  was  excessively 
annoying.  The  vice-presidency  of 
the  Fordwell  Company  was  as  good 
as  gone  already.  Mr.  Tibbetts  re 
belled  against  this  ill  stroke  of  for- 


THE     GIRL    &•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

tune.  His  rebellion  deepened  his 
confusion  as  he  climbed  the  stair 
toward  Edith's  room. 

Then  he  paused  as  he  heard  the 
rustle  of  her  gown.  "  Edith,"  he 
blurted,  "  he  is  here." 

Whether  the  equivocal  character 
of  this  message  appeared  to  him  as  he 
descended  the  stair  again  is  much  to 
be  doubted.  Certainly  no  thought  of 
Hadleigh  was  with  him  at  the  mo 
ment  of  his  announcement.  That 
it  all  was  over  —  that  was  his  one 
emotion. 

He  went  back  to  Barton  with  his 
face  lowered,  his  hands  fidgeting  be 
hind  him.  His  manner  misled  the 
younger  man. 

"  What  have  you  said  to  her  ?  " 
Barton  inquired  perplexedly. 

Mr.  Tibbetts  was  resentfully  mute. 
4  49 


THE     GIRL    &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"You  are  deceiving  me  for  some 
reason,"  Barton  declared.  "  You  are 
against  me.  What  have  you  said? 
I  soon  shall  know  !  " 

"Wait,  Barton!  "  cried  the  other, 
called  to  his  senses  by  the  threatened 
shock  to  the  girl, — "one  moment!" 

But  Barton  hurried  out  of  the 
room,  Mr.  Tibbetts  clinging  to  his 
coat. 

To  Edith  her  uncle's  singular  an 
nouncement  from  the  stair  was  less 
astonishing  than  it  might  have  been 
had  not  his  recent  excitement  pre 
pared  her  for  new  vagaries,  and  had 
she  herself  been  freer  from  an  agita 
tion  which  she  sought  unsuccessfully 
to  conceal  from  herself. 

When  she  entered  the  sitting-room 
her  step  was  tremulously  decided. 
She  saw  in  a  quick  glance  that  Had- 
5° 


THE     GIRL    <&•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

leigh  was  not  there.  Neither  was  he 
in  the  library,  a  circumstance  which 
an  observer  might  have  associated  with 
an  immediate  loss  of  some  of  the 
outward  calm  with  which  she  had 
descended  the  stair. 

The  truth  is  that  her  heart  was 
beating  high.  She  had  set  herself  to 
do  an  exceedingly  disagreeable  thing, 
and  she  had  undertaken  to  spare  her 
self  no  penitential  detail  of  a  task 
imposed  by  her  sense  of  justice  to 
Hadleigh  and  to  herself.  It  was 
costing  her  the  last  drops  of  her  cour 
age  to  confess  to  him  that  she  had 
promised  too  much,  that  to  offer  him 
more  than  her  high  respect  had  been 
to  offer  him  more  than  she  owned. 

Why  had  he  not  greeted  her  there 
where  she  had  expected  to  see  him  ? 
A  little  matter  may  stagger  one's 
51 


THE     GIRL    «&•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

overwrought  nerves.  One  is  unwil 
ling  to  search  for  a  lover  one  is  about 
to  dismiss. 

She  sat  down  at  the  library  table. 
How  should  she  meet  him  ?  She  had 
fancied  his  inquiring  look,  and  had 
planned  her  humiliating  story.  It 
was  turning  out  differently,  somehow. 
She  hated  the  thought  of  looking  him 
in  the  eyes. 

At  the  sound  of  a  step  she  felt  her 
self  grow  cold. 

"  Don't  speak  !  '     she  commanded 
tremulously,  her  face  averted.      "  I  - 
I   have  n't  any  courage,  after  all,  and 
you  must  do  me  the  last  kindness  of 
listening  for  a  moment  or  I  shan't  be 
able  to  say  a  word.      There  is  some 
thing  I  must  say.      It  is  a  hard  thing 
to  say  —  the  hardest  thing  I  ever  tried 
to  say.     You  will  understand  that." 
52 


'Don't  spt-jk  /'  sfa-  com 
manded  tremulously" 


THE     GIRL    &-    THE     GUARDSMAN 

Barton  was  frozen  where  he  stood, 
and  old  Tibbetts,  a  detaining  hand 
on  Barton's  arm,  his  lips  parted,  ut 
terly  failed  in  the  first  dazed  moment 
to  grasp  the  significance  of  Edith's 
speech. 

"You  always  have  known,"  the 
girl  went  on,  "  that  I  held  a  high 
ideal  of  a  woman's  duty  —  that  I  be 
lieved  in  the  true  love  of  the  woman 
for  the  man  as  well  as  in  the  true 
love  of  the  man  for  the  woman. 
Without  this,  marriage  could  not  be 
holy.  There  are  so  many  ways  of 
looking  at  a  woman's  duty,  that  I 
suppose  God  forgives  her  for  some 
mistakes.  When  I  promised  to 
marry  you  I  did  not  foresee  every 
thing  that  has  happened --happened 
to  myself.  This  will  seem  very  cruel 
to  you." 

S3 


THE     GIRL    &-    THE     GUARDSMAN 

Mr.  Tibbetts  put  out  his  hand  to 
ward  Edith,  his  eyes  on  Barton,  who 
stood  white  and  strung  at  the  parted 
curtains.  Perhaps  the  disaster  fas 
cinated  him.  At  all  events  he  did 
not  speak. 

"  Try  not  to  think  harshly  of 
me,"  came  Edith's  voice.  "  Try  to 
remember  all  the  good  you  can  of 
me.  But  this  is  the  truth,  whatever 
may  have  seemed  to  be  true  to  either 
of  us.  I  do  not  love  you.  I  must 
not  see  you  as  my  lover  any  more. 
I  have  done  you  a  great  wrong." 

Barton  drew  back  as  if  some  one 
were  stabbing  him  repeatedly.  Tib 
betts  had  a  confused  sense  of  his  going, 
and  of  Edith  still  speaking.  "  I  was 
foolish  to  think  that  love  ever  could 
come  to  me  again.  The  only  man  I 
ever  loved,  the  only  man  I  ever  could 
54 


THE     GIRL    &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

love,  lies  buried  at  Manila.  .  .  . 
Forgive  me,  Marcus "  -  she  had 
arisen  —  "I  have  n't  asked  you  to  be 
seated,  I  have  n't  —  uncle  !  " 

Only  Tibbetts  stood  there,  wring 
ing  his  hands. 

"Uncle !  and  you  let  me  " 

"My  —  my  dear,  he  just  went 
away." 

"  Away  !  "  She  sank  again  into 
the  chair. 

"  Yes,  Edith.  He  has  gone.  I  — 
I  am  afraid,  my  dear,  that  you  will 
have  to  tell  him  again  !  ' 


55 


HE  trolley  into  the 
city  ran  scarcely  a 
hundred  yards  from 
the  house,  but  Bar 
ton  struck  blindly 
across  the  valley 
with  little  thought 
as  to  the  direction  in  which  his  steps 
carried  him.  How  he  left  the  Lyn- 
wood  house  would  at  any  later  time 
have  been  a  matter  as  trying  to  his 
recollection  as  an  elusive  hiatus  in  a 
dream. 

Fate  is  credited  with  a  whimsical 
habit    in    managing    children    and 
56 


THE    GIRL    fir    THE     GUARDSMAN 

drunken  men.  Doubtless  there  is  a 
special  formula  for  lovers  who  blun 
der,  otherwise  drama  might  perish 
and  ordinary  fiction  go  lame  in  an 
early  chapter. 

However,  the  great  fact  just  here 
is  that  Barton  and  Edith  managed  to 
be  deceived  in  defiance  of  every  rea 
sonable  probability  that  such  a  thing 
would  not  happen.  It  was  a  chance 
in  a  million,  and  even  that  millionth 
chance  demanded  Tibbetts.  The 
thing  could  not  have  been  done  with 
out  him --and  it  could  not  have 
been  done  had  he  meant  to  do  it. 

The  blinding  bitterness  that  seized 
upon  the  soldier  bore  with  it  a  dis 
torted  image  of  Tibbetts,  whom  Bar 
ton's  grief  and  anger  instinctively 
associated  with  the  blow  that  so  un 
expectedly  struck  him  down. 
57 


THE    GIRL    <5r    THE    GUARDSMAN 

And  yet,  thought  Barton,  what 
difference  did  it  make  what  had 
been  said  to  her  ?  She  had  judged 
and  executed  him.  There  was  no 
saving  gleam  of  false  impulse  in  what 
she  had  said.  She  had  spoken  with 
emotion  -  -  she  had  thought  him 
dead.  But  all  the  same  she  spoke 
with  merciless  decision.  The  words 
were  colored  by  the  moment.  She 
had  lived  with  the  thoughts  they 
expressed. 

This  was  his  home  coming.  This 
was  the  end  of  the  journey.  This 
was  the  crown  to  his  devotion. 

A  man  has  his  notions  of  human 
nature,  of  right  and  wrong.  He  has 
his  theories  of  friendship,  of  love, 
of  fidelity,  his  ideals  that  flame 
steadily  in  the  darkest  night.  Per 
haps  he  has  had  the  hope  of  proving 
58 


THE    GIRL    6-    THE     GUARDSMAN 

in  his  own  life  that  cynicism  is  a  lie, 
that  faith  is  a  living  flower,  fair, 
elate,  imperishable.  What  a  mock 
ery  was  all  this  in  the  face  of  such  a 
grotesque  tragedy  ! 

It  was  hard  enough  to  think  that 
in  a  few  short  months  she  should 
have  been  able  to  find  a  satisfying 
love  in  another.  It  was  crushing  to 
think  that,  having  so  found  her  way, 
no  surviving  thought  of  him  should 
have  better  guided  her  greeting.  The 
wound  from  an  enemy  is  at  worst 
an  awkward  thing.  The  blow  of  a 
friend  is  the  real  hurt,  the  supreme 
calamity  of  life. 

Poor  Barton  felt  that  this  wound 
had  rended  his  soul.  He  had 
no  blame  for  Hadleigh  —  no,  no. 
He  assured  himself  that  Hadleigh 
was  the  one  man  he  would  have 
59 


THE    GIRL    <Sr    THE     GUARDSMAN 

chosen  to  take  his  place  by  her  side. 
And  she,  perhaps,  had  been  influenced 
by  thought  of  himself  in  listening  to 
his  friend.  It  was  not  a  fantastic 
idea --or  might  not  have  seemed 
such  had  the  last  hour  been  turned 
differently. 

The  world  was  empty  —  that  was 
the  short  of  it.  Had  he  been  a 
coward,  Barton  might  have  found 
consolation  in  some  desperate  resolve 
to  outwit  the  fate  that  had  preserved 
him  alive.  As  it  was,  he  could  have 
cursed  the  fortune  that  denied  him 
a  forward  place  in  a  charging  line. 
There  are  lucky  men  who  at  the 
right  moment  have  the  chance  to 
lead  a  forlorn  hope. 

Why  was  his  path  so  smooth  ? 
Why  did  the  field  lie  soft  and  odor 
ous  before  him  ?  Why  did  the  sun 
60 


-Si    ^ 

»<;    "r- 


THE     GIRL     £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

mock  him  with  its  September  shim 
mer  ?  Why  did  the  trees  — 

The  trees  !  Here  was  the  tree  be 
neath  which  she  sat  when  he  had 
sketched  her  in  the  green  vista  of  the 
valley.  .  .  .  He  had  given  the  sketch 
to  her.  That  was  long  ago,  in  the 
other  time.  .  .  .  What  had  she  done 
with  such  souvenirs  of  their  be 
trothal  ?  Was  she  so  different  from 
anything  he  had  fancied  that  she 
could  look  upon  that  image  of  her 
self  drawn  in  his  affectionate  lines 
without  a  twinge  of  regret  for  the 
cruelty  of  her  dismissal  ? 

Such  things,  he  thought,  had 
turned  honest  men  into  something 
worse  than  cynics.  No  man  could 
be  the  same  again  who  had  gone 
through  a  trial  like  this.  The 

burn   of   such    a    moment  must  dis- 
61 


THE    GIRL    <Sr    THE     GUARDSMAN 

figure  him,  must  cripple  his  reason, 
must  kill  his  faith. 

"  Holy  saints  !  " 

The  voice  seemed  to  come  out  of 
the  earth,  but  when  Barton  looked 
up  he  discovered  its  owner  in  the 
person  of  a  hatless  youth  who  evi 
dently  had  been  running  hard,  for 
his  face  was  flushed  and  he  was  pant 
ing  heavily.  At  the  moment  when 
Barton  caught  sight  of  him  the  lad 
was  staring  at  him  with  something 
like  terror  in  his  look. 

"  Becker,"  said  Barton  quietly  ; 
"you  are  Becker,  aren't  you." 

"  Y-yes,"  stammered  the  youth, 
still  moving.  "  I  thought  you 
were  —  were  " 

"  Barton  ?     I  am." 

Becker    shifted    uneasily    as   if   to 

break  into  a  run  again,  glancing  over 

62 


THE     GIRL    <&•    THE    GUARDSMAN 

his  shoulder,  then  once  more  at  the 
soldier.  "I  —  thought  you  were  — 
were  dead." 

"  I  was,"  said  Barton  quietly. 
"  But  I  came  back." 

"  God !  '  Becker  tore  away 
through  a  fringe  of  bushes,  never 
turning  his  head. 

What  did  this  mean  ?  Barton 
looked  after  him  for  a  moment,  then 
walked  on.  Certainly  the  world 
was  strangely  muddled.  The  val 
ley  seemed  much  the  same.  Here 
was  the  river,  rippling  in  the  sun 
light,  the  same  old  lazy  river.  There 
were  the  works  and  the  row  of  white 
houses  beyond.  Further  away  was 
the  old  white  steeple  and  the  water 
tower.  But  the  people  —  they  were 
as  changed  as  if  he  had  been  away 
for  the  length  of  a  Rip  Van  Winkle 
63 


THE    GIRL    <5r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

sleep,  or  as  if  some  malign  spirit  had 
cast  a  blight  upon  them.  Witness 
young  Becker,  if  not  stark  crazy, 
acting  like  a  madman  or  a  hunted 
spirit. 

What  was  this  on  the  ground ! 
Barton  wondered  if  his  mind  were 
going,  or  if  he  actually  saw  lying 
among  the  first-fallen  leaves  the  fig 
ure  of  a  man. 

He  did  not  hurry  to  the  spot. 
Probably  the  thing  was  another  trick 
of  his  tortured  brain.  .  .  . 

It  was  a  man,  a  young  man  with 
a  red  stain  on  his  coat,  an  uncon 
scious  man  bleeding  from  some 
wound  nelar  his  shoulder.  He 
knew  the  man.  .  .  .  Yes,  it  was 
Marcus  Hadleigh  -  -  Hadleigh,  dying 
perhaps. 

Barton  said  the  name  aloud,  not  as 
64 


THE    GIRL    &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

if  to  call  him,  but  as  one  might  label 
another  phase  of  a  bad  dream. 

At  this  the  young  man  beside 
whom  Barton  was  kneeling  opened 
his  eyes.  For  a  moment  the  eyes 
seemed  to  see  nothing.  Then  they 
steadied  themselves  in  a  searching 
look  at  Barton's  face,  and  the  brows 
gathered  perplexedly. 

"  My  God !  "  cried  Hadleigh, 
clearing  his  throat.  "  You  're  not 
Barton  ? " 

"  Yes  I  am,  Hadleigh.  Lie  still  for 
a  moment  till  I  find  what  the  trouble 
is."  Barton  was  awake  again. 

"  I  'm  shot,"  said  Hadleigh,  with 
his  eyes  hard  fixed  on  Barton.  "  He 
hit  me  right  —  right  here  —  in  the 
arm.  It 's  nothing  at  all,  but  I  was 
chasing  him,  and  —  and  a  weakness 
came  over  me." 

5  65 


THE    GIRL    &    THE    GUARDSMAN 

"  Shut  up,  Hadleigh,  until  I  get 
a  compress  here  .  .  .  there,  that 's 
better." 

Hadleigh  began  to  tremble  vio 
lently.  "  No  .  .  .  you  can't  be  Bar 
ton.  I  'm  as  crazy  as  a  ...  No, 
Barton 's  dead,  poor  fellow.  And 
yet  -  -  God  !  the  hat,  and  the 
coat !  "  - 

"  Hadleigh,  will  you  shut  up  ?  If 
you  have  n't  bled  too  much  perhaps 
you  can  get  your  arm  up  —  here  — 
like  —  that 's  it,  that 's  it.  We  ought 
to  know  the  trick.  Mrs.  Hender- 
ling's  house  is  only  a  little  way  off. 
I  'd  rather  not  leave  you  ;  you  must 
try  to  walk." 

"Of  course  I'll  walk,"  faltered 
Hadleigh,  his  eyes  still  fascinated  by 
the  face  of  Barton.  "  I  'm  only  a 
little  weak,  you  understand." 

66 


THE     GIRL    &•    THE    GUARDSMAN 

"  Don't  talk,  I  tell  you.  Put  your 
steam  into  those  legs  of  yours.  That 's 
right.  We  shall  only  be  a  minute  or 
two.  Keep  still  and  listen  to  me. 
I  '11  talk.  I  was  hard  hit  that  day, 
Hadleigh,  but  it  was  n't  what  you 
thought.  I  pulled  out,  and  after 
ward  escaped.  There  was  a  mix-up 
at  the  hospital,  and  I  was  a  long  time 
in  the  fever.  Probably  it  was  n't  a 
hundred  years.  But  I  got  through. 
It  was  that  fellow  Binton,  poor  devil, 
from  Sandville,  who  was  buried  with 
the  two  others.  It  was  like  some 
thing  out  of  a  book,  an  almighty 
exciting,  impossible  romance.  Any 
way,  I  'm  here.  You  see  how  this 
lunatic  world  goes.  After  all  your 
trouble,  Hadleigh,  you  had  to  come 
home  to  get  shot  -  There  !  eyes 
front !  We  're  getting  there  !  " 
67 


THE     GIRL    <5r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

They  made  him  comfortable  in 
the  little  room  off  Mrs.  Henderling's 
porch  -  -  he  refused  to  lie  down. 
When  the  doctor  came  he  said  it  was 
a  close  shave  for  the  bone.  Having 
adjusted  a  new  compress  and  bound 
up  the  wound  the  doctor  turned  to 
Barton.  "  Well  done.  You  're  an 
artist." 

"  He  's  a  soldier,"  said  Hadleigh. 

"  He  did  a  quick  turn  for  me 
once,"  returned  Barton,  looking  down 
at  the  wounded  man. 

The  doctor,  who  had  run  over 
on  foot,  said  he  would  'phone  over 
to  the  Hadleigh  place  and  have  a 
carriage  up  right  away.  They  had 
discouraged  Hadleigh's  attempt  to 
tell  how  it  happened,  but  he  managed 
to  explain  that  he  was  shot  while 

driving,  and  that  he  saw  his  assailant. 

68 


THE     GIRL    <£r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  One  or  two  rough  ones  at  the 
works  have  had  it  in  for  me,"  he 
said,  "  and  a  young  fellow,  a  mere 
kid,  who  was  discharged  a  week  ago, 
is  the  one  who  did  it.  I  expected 
to  be  attacked,  but  I  did  n't  expect  a 
bullet.  I  was  driving  across  to  the 
Lynwood  house."  Hadleigh  looked 
over  at  Barton.  "  The  fellow  fired 
from  behind  some  bushes  by  the  road. 
If  you  get  sight  of  my  horse,  doctor, 
you  might  send  the  rig  up." 

"  But  you  must  go  straight  home," 
warned  the  doctor. 

Hadleigh  nodded, 

"  Yes,"  he  continued,  when  the 
doctor  went  away,  "  I  left  the  horse 
and  headed  for  him.  I  know  the 
man." 

"  So   do   I,"    added    Barton.     "  It 

was  young   Becker." 
69 


THE     GIRL    6-    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  How  the  devil  "  — 

"  I  met  him  running." 

"  It  is  a  funny  world!  "  cried  Had- 
leigh.  "  What  an  extraordinary  thing 
that  you  should  stumble  over  me !  " 

"  I  almost  did  stumble  over  you." 

"  Do  you  know,"  pursued  Had- 
leigh,  twisting  in  the  arm-chair,  "  I 
can't  believe  it  is  you  —  back  from 
the  dead.  I  tell  you,  when  I  opened 
my  eyes  and  saw  you,  it  came  over 
me  queerly  like  a  dream  that  I  was 
dead  and  that  I  had  joined  you,  Bar 
ton.  It  did  n't  even  seem  astonish 
ing.  I  took  it  quite  for  granted  in 
a  way.  Then  when  my  senses 
came  "  — 

"You    are    talking    too    much, 

Hadleigh.     You  are  not  badly  hurt, 

but  you   bled    a   good   deal   and  you 

must  be  quiet  for   a  while.      I  shall 

70 


THE     GIRL    <&•    THE    GUARDSMAN 

have  to  leave  you  if  you  can't  keep 
mum." 

"  I  '11  be  good  if  you  don't  keep 
quiet,  Barton,  and  will  go  on  and  tell 
me  everything.  What  are  you  doing 
with  your  gun  ? " 

Barton  was  leaning  forward,  his 
elbows  on  his  knees,  his  hands  en 
gaged  with  the  revolver  he  had  car 
ried  home  in  virtue  of  that  tribute  to 
sentiment  by  which  a  man  is  per 
mitted  to  buy  his  weapons  from 
the  government.  He  had  carried  the 
revolver  within  his  blouse  for  the 
boyish  pleasure  of  parading  it  a  little 
in  his  home  coming. 

"You  are  right,"  said  Barton, 
studying  the  Remington,  "  this  is  a 
funny  world.  For  instance,  here  I 
was  in  the  field.  There  you  were 
driving  past.  Now,  what  was  to 
71 


THE    GIRL    £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

prevent  me  from  having  a  go  at  you 
myself?  Think  how  romantic  it 
would  be  if  I  were  under  suspicion," 
and  he  threw  open  the  revolver  as  if 
he  were  breaking  its  back. 

"  Yes,"  admitted  Hadleigh,  mysti 
fied  by  the  soldier's  strange  laugh. 
"  But  I  saw  the  fellow  who  did  it. 
That  spoils  the  romance.  Just  as  he 
stood  up  I  caught  a  fair  sight  of  him. 
It  was  Teddy  Becker.  We  must  get 
the  police  after  him.  Not  that  I 
care  for  the  row.  But  he  's  a  dan 
gerous  character.  It 's  a  duty.  Will 
you  do  something  for  me,  Barton  ? " 

"  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  want  to  send  word  over  to  the 
Lyn  woods." 

"  I  '11  send  it." 

Hadleigh  gave  him  a  furtive  look. 
"  Have  you  —  been  there  ?  " 
72 


'  IVkal  arc  you  doing 
will) your  gun  ?' '' 


THE     GIRL    &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  Yes,"  Barton  answered  shortly. 

Hadleigh  studied  his  face.  He 
could  not  read  it.  Barton  went  on 
as  if  to  prevent  Hadleigh  from  pur 
suing  this  line  of  inquiry :  "  Shall 
you  dictate  it,  Hadleigh  ? " 

"  No,  no  ;  write  anything  you  like 
and  sign  it  yourself — just  to  tell 
her  that  I  have  been  hurt.  Do 
you  know,"  continued  Hadleigh,  "  I 
was  just  thinking  how  odd  it  would 
be  if  you  hadn't  been  there  and  she 
should  get  such  a  note  signed  by 
you  I  " 

"  It  would  have  been  odd,"  ad 
mitted  Barton. 

He  had  looked  about  and  half  risen 
as  if  to  go  in  search  of  a  scrap  of 
paper.  He  brought  out  a  packet 
from  his  pocket  and  looked  it  over 
for  a  blank  page.  He  found  a  sheet 

73 


THE     GIRL     <Sr     THE     GUARDSMAN 

blank  on  one  side.  He  turned  it 
over  and  read  :  "  Ever  your  faithful 
sweetheart,  Edith."  The  words  cut 
him,  and  his  temples  began  throbbing 
again.  "  Ever  your  faithful  sweet 
heart."  Here  was  concentrated,  sub 
limated  irony.  He  would  not  have 
thought  that  he  could  be  guilty  of 
writing  as  he  did  on  the  back  of  this 
sheet  the  few  lines  in  which  he 
said  the  things  he  was  asked  to  say. 

They  were  very  curt  lines,  he  had 
to  admit,  when  he  came  to  glance 
them  over.  But  this  was  no  time 
for  fine  writing.  It  was  news  of 
Hadleigh  that  was  the  essential  thing. 
She  would  n't  distress  herself  over  the 
medium  nor  over  the  manner  of  the 
communication.  He  folded  the  sheet 
and  placed  it  in  an  envelope  which 
Mrs.  Henderling  fetched  for  him 
74 


THE     GIRL    6-    THE     GUARDSMAN 

when  she  saw  him  writing.  They 
sent  it  away  by  Mrs.  Henderling's 
boy. 

"  Barton,"  said  Hadleigh,  when 
he  saw  the  other  rise,  "  I  want 
to  see  more  of  you  right  away. 
You  've  got  lots  of  things  to  tell 
me  .  .  .  and  I  Ve  got  some  things 
to  say  to  you.  Just  now  I  -  - 1  don't 
somehow  "  • — 

"  Well,"  returned  Barton  in  a  dull 
way,  with  a  fling  of  his  shoulders  as 
if  to  give  to  his  words  a  lightness  he 
could  not  get  into  his  voice,  "  keep 
quiet  to-day  anyway.  Here  's  the 
carriage  —  it 's  your  own  rig." 

Barton  helped  him  out  to  the  gate, 
and  then  with  a  laugh  lifted  him  to 
the  seat. 

"  You  must  be  getting  into  condi 
tion  again,  Barton,"  suggested  Had- 
75 


THE     GIRL    6-    THE    GUARDSMAN 

leigh,  who  appeared  to  hate  a  pause 
in  the  talk. 

"  O  yes,"  agreed  Barton,  taking 
the  reins  from  the  man,  "  I  am  in 
the  pink  of  condition/' 

Hadleigh's  mother  and  sister 
met  them  near  the  house.  The 
doctor  had  added  the  news  about 
Barton  to  his  'phone  message,  and 
the  two  women  were  in  great  ex 
citement. 

"  It 's  all  right !  "  shouted  Hadleigh. 
Nevertheless  his  voice  broke. 

"  You  poor  boy  !  "  exclaimed  the 
mother  ;  "  and  Mr.  Barton  !  I  can't 
believe  it !  " 

"  Both  things  are  true,"  said  Bar 
ton.  "  He 's  hurt  and  I  'm  here. 
I  'm  going  to  turn  him  over  to 
you  now." 

When  they  had  the  wounded  man 
76 


THE    GIRL    <5r    THE    GUARDSMAN 

in  the  house  Barton  slipped  away 
unnoticed.  He  stalked  down  the 
railroad  track,  through  the  engine 
yard,  ignoring  the  shriek  of  a  warn 
ing  whistle,  and  strode  on,  head  down, 
past  the  factories  and  the  long  enclos 
ure  of  the  rink  until  he  found  himself 
back  in  town. 


77 


'OW,  it  will  be  un 
derstood  that  none 
of  these  later  hap 
penings  was  known 
to  Amanda  Maud 
Wiggins  sitting  in 
her  trysting  place 
in  mute  commun 
ion  with  an  ugly 

and  inexcusable  Japanese  dragon  that 
ornamented  a  corner  of  Barton's 
studio. 

Amanda  had  spoken  truly.  Bar 
ton's  studio  was  quiet.  It  formed 
the  north  corner  of  the  studio  floor  in 
the  Board  of  Trade  building,  farthest 
from  the  noises  of  the  street.  If 
78 


THE     GIRL     &•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

Amanda  always  resented  the  five 
flights  of  steps,  and  seldom  neglected 
to  make  a  suitable  comment  thereon, 
the  good  qualities  of  the  uninhabited 
studio  could  not  be  denied. 

It  was  the  only  studio  Amanda 
ever  had  seen,  and  she  took  Joe 
Gribsey's  word  for  it  that  most  of 
them  were  pretty  much  the  same 
way.  But  the  dust  in  the  corners 
annoyed  her  unspeakably  at  times, 
and  the  inaccessible  sabres,  antlers, 
masks  and  lanterns  smote  her  griev 
ously. 

"  What  this  place  needs,"  she  had 
said  to  Joe  Gribsey  on  several  occa 
sions,  "  is  a  good  cleaning  up." 

"  Not  on  your  life,"  was  Gribsey's 
invariable  response. 

"  The  fact  is,  Amanda,"  Joe  had 
explained  to  her  in  mitigation  of  his 

79 


THE     GIRL    &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

refusal,  "  that  you  can't  clean  up 
studios.  That  ain't  the  way  they  do 
it.  You  just  dust  off  the  things  they 
sit  on  and  touch  with  their  hands. 
Once  I  dusted  off  one  of  Mr.  Barton's 
casts  —  that  bushy-headed  jay  under 
the  angel --and  he  wouldn't  speak 
to  me  for  three  days." 

While  Amanda  sat  staring  at  the 
Japanese  dragon  the  door  opened, 
and  the  girl,  turning,  saw  a  soldier 
standing  under  the  Turkish  blade 
that  supported  the  curtain  of  the 
inner  door. 

For  a  moment  Barton  and  Amanda 
looked  at  each  other  without  speaking. 
Then  Amanda  found  her  voice. 

"The  artist  ain't  in,"  she  said. 

"  That  's    where    you  're    wrong,*' 
remarked  Barton,  peering  about  him. 
"  That 's  where  you  're  wrong." 
80 


THE     GIRL    <Sr    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  Well,  upon  my  word  !  "  was  all 
Amanda  could  say  for  a  time.  Pres 
ently  she  added,  firmly,  under  an 
accumulated  resentment,  "  Who  are 
you  looking  for  ? ' 

Barton  glanced  down  at  her,  at 
her  big  black  eyes,  at  her  round 
chin  and  flushed  cheeks,  at  her 
heavy  unmanageable  hair.  "  Joe 
Gribsey  will  do  for  a  start-off,"  he 
answered. 

"  He 's  out  just  now,"  declared 
Amanda,  dismissal  in  her  tone. 

"  Is  he  ?  Perhaps  you  know  when 
he  '11  be  back.  I  could  n't  find  him 
anywhere  in  the  building." 

"  He  '11  be  back  pretty  soon." 

"  Perhaps  you  even  know  where 
he  's  gone." 

"  I  do.  He  's  gone  for  some  gin 
ger  pop." 

6  8l 


THE    GIRL     fir    THE    GUARDSMAN 

"O!  He  has,  has  he?  Well, 
now,  I  should  n't  want  to  spoil  any 
thing.  Don't  mind  my  smoking,  do 
you  ? "  Barton  had  crossed  to  the 
old  desk,  found  one  of  his  pipes,  and 
put  aside  the  newer  one  which  he 
pulled  out  of  his  coat  with  the  Ma 
nila  tobacco. 

"  Upon  my  word !  "  repeated 
Amanda,  her  eyes  opening  wider. 
"  If  you  don't  beat  all !  You  just 
make  yourself  to  home,  don't  you  ? " 

"  I  'm  going  to  try  to,"  admitted 
Barton. 

"  Did  n't  you  hear  me  say  that  the 
artist  ain't  in  ?  What 's  more,  he 
never  will  be  in." 

"  Is  that  so  ? "  Barton  sat  down 
opposite  Amanda.  "  How  odd.  What 
is  he  doing  with  himself?" 

"  He  's  dead." 

82 


THE    GIRL    &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"Poor  fellow."  Barton  pulled 
slowly  at  the  pipe.  "  Too  bad.  By 
the  way,"  he  pursued,  "  would  you 
mind  telling  me  who  is  occupy 
ing  this  studio  just  now  ?  —  the  artist, 
the  other  artist,  being  dead,  you 
know." 

"  There  ain't  nobody  occupying 
it,"  retorted  Amanda.  "  I  'm  just 
visitin'  here  myself,  visitin'  Joe  — 
Mr.  Gribsey." 

"  I  see,"  nodded  Barton.  "  Nice 
place,  too."  Presently  he  added  : 
"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  you  have 
made  me  feel  a  little  awkward  here. 
You  have  n't  meant  to,  I  know."  He 
eyed  her  with  a  savage  whimsicality 
that  might  have  puzzled  a  profounder 
observer  than  Amanda.  "  But  I  feel 
that  I  have  intruded  somewhat.  I 
fancy  that  I  ought  to  apologize  to 
you."  83 


THE    GIRL    <&•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

Amanda  was  framing  some  re 
sponse  when  Joe  Gribsey's  shuffle 
sounded  at  the  door,  and  an  instant 
later  the  janitor  appeared,  two  ginger- 
pop  bottles  in  one  hand,  a  yellow 
package  in  the  other. 

A  soldier  sitting  in  converse  with 
Amanda  in  their  trysting  place,  a 
soldier  smoking  a  pipe,  and  — 

"  O  Lord  !  "  gasped  Gribsey,  drop 
ping  the  ginger  pop  and  package. 
The  sight  of  this  man  looking  so 
much  as  the  real  Barton  had  when 
he  went  away  filled  Gribsey  with  a 
horror  that  was  grotesquely  expressed 
in  a  countenance  of  singular  mobility. 

In  a  revulsion  of  feeling  Barton 
found  this  affair  of  the  studio  grimly 
funny,  as  indeed  it  was.  The  abject 
horror  in  Gribsey's  shaven  visage 

almost  made  him  laugh  aloud,  yet  he 

84 


THE     GIRL    &-    THE     GUARDSMAN 

hastened  to  repair  the  damage  he  was 
inflicting  upon  Gribsey's  nervous 
system. 

"  It 's  all  right,  Joe,"  he  said, 
"  I  'm  the  real  thing." 

"  O  Lord  !  "  repeated  Gribsey. 

"  Joe  Gribsey  1  "  cried  Amanda, 
"  why  don't  you  behave  yourself? 
Have  you  gone  looney  ?  " 

"  Barton  !  "  stammered  Gribsey. 
"Don't  yer  see?  —  it's  Barton  that 
was  killed  1  Lord !  I  never  knew 
they  looked  so  plain  1  " 

"  Have  some  sense,  Joe,"  ordered 
Amanda,  "  he  ain't  no  ghost." 

"  Of  course  not,"  declared  Bar 
ton  encouragingly,  with  a  hand 
outstretched;  "not  a  bit  of  it. 
Don't  you  know  a  live  man  when 
you  see  him,  Joe  ?  I  'm  just  Bar 
ton,  alive  again,  not  killed,  you 
85 


THE     GIRL    &-    THE     GUARDSMAN 

know,  and  come  back  to  bother 
you  again." 

"  Mr.  Barton  !  —  is  it  —  really  — 
you  !  Well,  I  '11  be  "  - 

"It's  really  me,  Joe,  and  you've 
spilled  the  ginger  pop,  and  we  are 
gorgeously  thirsty.  Go  right  out  and 
get  some  more.  Get  several  things, 
Joe;  you  know  what  I  like.  I  can't 
eat  anything  just  now,  I  'm  afraid, 
but"- 

Joe  could  not  be  induced  to  go 
until  he  had  shaken  Barton's  hand 
many  times,  and  all  but  hugged  him 
in  the  excess  of  his  joy  and  astonish 
ment.  When  at  last  he  was  shuffling 
excitedly  down  the  stairs  again  they 
could  hear  him  muttering,  "Well, 
I  '11  be  everlastin'ly  jiggered  !  " 

As  for  Amanda,  she  had  fastened  a 

new  look   upon   Barton.      "And  so," 
86 


THE    GIRL    £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

she   said,    "you    are    the    artist   who 
went  to    the  war?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Barton,  "and,  worse 
luck,  I  am  the  artist  who  came  home 
again." 

Amanda  took  the  liberty  of  draw 
ing  her  chair  a  little  closer.  "  I  know 
somethin'  about  you,"  she  said. 

"Do  you?"  asked  Barton. 

Amanda  nodded.  "I  'm  glad  to 
see  you  back  again,  and  I  know 
some  one  that  '11  be  gladder  than  I 
am  —  gladder  than  any  one  else,  I 
suppose." 

Barton  expressed  his  interest. 

"  She 's  the  young  lady  in  our 
house.  She  's  Miss  Lynwood." 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Barton  casually, 
"  your  voice  did  sound  familiar." 

"  Why,  I   never  saw  you  before," 
declared  Amanda. 
87 


THE     GIRL    £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  No,"  admitted  Barton,  recalling 
his  cramped  situation  behind  the 
screen,  "  I  don't  believe  you  did. 
Eh — how  long  have  you  been  at  the 
Lynwood  house?" 

"  Since  January.  You  went  away 
long  before  that  did  n't  you  ? " 

"Long  before  that,"  repeated  Bar 
ton  slowly.  "  And  when  you  go 
away  and  stay  a  long  time  —  a  num 
ber  of  months,"  he  added  savagely, 
until  Amanda  stared,  "you  can't  tell 
how  things  will  be  when  you  get 
back,  can  you?" 

"  Maybe,"  said  Amanda,  expanding 
in  an  emotion  of  confidential  ex 
change.  "  Now  when  I  don't  see 
Joe  Gribsey  for  quite  a  while  I  get 
so  's  I  can't  wait  to  see  him.  Then 
when  I  do  see  him  he  makes  me 
awful  tired.' 


THE     GIRL    &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  That  is  too  bad,"  returned  Barton. 

Amanda  watched  him  interestedly 
as  he  paced  the  studio.  She  saw  his 
face  change  as  he  walked.  When  he 
finally  turned  sharply  and  asked, 
"  Will  you  do  me  a  favor  ? "  she 
was  almost  startled  out  of  her  pla 
cidity  by  the  look  in  his  eyes. 

"  I  'd  just  like  to,"  she  answered, 
and  quite  truly. 

"  There  is  something,"  he  said, 
"  that  I  should  like  to  have  you 
carry  back  to  Miss  Lynwood.  You 
would  n't  lose  it,  would  you  ? " 

"  No,  indeed,  sir  !  ' 

He  turned  to  his  desk  and  began 
to  write.  Presently  Amanda  saw  him 
take  off  something  from  about  his 
neck,  and  though  he  pretended  to 
keep  on  writing  she  was  sure  that  he 
stared  at  the  thing,  whatever  it  was, 


THE     GIRL     £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

long  and  fixedly.  She  wondered 
what  object  could  hold  his  earnest 
attention  so  long. 

Presently  he  got  up.  "  Please  take 
this  back  with  you,"  he  said,  giving 
her  an  envelope  in  which  there  was 
something  hard,  like  a  locket  maybe, 
and  a  silver  piece  lay  in  her  hand 
underneath. 

"  Any  message  with  it  ? "  asked 
Amanda. 

"  The  message  is  there,"  replied 
Barton. 

Amanda  held  the  envelope  in  both 
of  her  hands  for  a  moment,  then 
passed  it  debatingly  from  one  to  the 
other,  and  ended  by  putting  it  in  her 
hat  which  lay  near  the  pillows  on  the 
Venetian  chest.  She  thought  that 
Barton  was  watching  to  make  certain 

of  the  envelope's  safe  bestowal  j   but 

90 


THE     GIRL     &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

his  fixed  glance  saw  nothing,  and  he 
did  not  stir  from  where  he  stood  in 
the  middle  of  the  floor  until  Gribsey 
came  gasping  back  with  several  bot 
tles,  some  fruit,  and  a  package  of 
cakes. 

"  Say  !  "  burst  out  Joe,  "  nobody  '11 
believe  it !  I  just  told  Dunkley,  and 
he  said  I  was  gettin'  worse  !  Pete 
Somers  says  some  green  goods  man  is 
workin'  us  to  swipe  the  studio  stuff. 
What  a  racket  !  Gee  —  willikins  ! 
what  '11  Miss  Mitser  and  old  Morgan 
say  !  And  Jennings  "  — 

"  Are  you  goin'  to  hold  them  bot 
tles  all  day  ?  "  asked  Amanda. 

"  Give  me  time,  Amanda,  give  me 
time.  I  tell  you,  I  'm  pretty  much 
disturbed  myself !  Just  to  think  !  — 
Mr.  Barton,  this  is  the  most  wonder 
ful  thing  that  ever  happened  !  Here 
9' 


THE     GIRL    <5r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

you  were  dead  as  a  herrin'  to  the  whole 
of  us  —  dead  and  buried,  dead  and 
writ  up  in  the  papers  —  and  a  mighty 
mean  yeller  dog  picture  they  had  of 
you,  too  —  and  then,  here  you  walks 
in  as  alive  as  a  new  policeman." 

"  If  I  don't  get  a  drink  in  another 
minute,"  complained  Barton,  "you  '11 
have  to  bury  me  again." 

But  Joe  only  laughed  excitedly 
as  he  pulled  out  the  little  table  and 
disposed  the  fare,  Amanda  helping. 
"  This  is  just  rich  !  '  he  went  on. 
"  My  sister  '11  say  I  been  drinkin'. 
I  '11  have  a  tremenjous  grind  on 
some  folks.  O,  I  '11  work  something 
good  on  Stovey  all  right !  *  Bet 
you,'  I'll  say,  <  that  Mr.  Barton 
wasn't  killed  at  all.'  *  Go  on!' 
he  '11  say  ;  *  was  n't  he  buried  ? ' 
*  Maybe  you  won't  bet,'  I  '11  say. 
92 


THE    GIRL    £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

'  Go  on  ! '  he  '11  say  ;  '  somebody  's 
havin'  fun  with  you.'  *  All  right,' 
I  '11  say,  '  you  don't  have  to  take  me 
up.  There  are  others.'  '  See  here,' 
Stovey  '11  say,  'do  you  mean  it  ?  Do 
you  want  to  throw  away  some 
dough  ? '  'I'm  your  man,'  I  '11  say. 
And  then"- 

"  Joe,"  interrupted  Amanda,  "have 
some  sense." 

"Take  this  bottle,  Mr.  Barton," 
Joe  said,  pushing  the  bulk  of  the 
supplies  toward  the  soldier.  "  I  '11 
give  you  and  Amanda  the  glasses. 
I  '11  take  the  cup.  You  see,  me  and 
Amanda  " 

"  That  was  all  right,  Joe,"  Barton 
interposed.  "  You  were  quite  wel 
come." 

"  That 's  what  I  told  Amanda," 
pursued  Joe.  "  I  said  you  'd  never 

93 


THE     GIRL    &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

care  —  I     mean     even     if    you    was 
alive." 

"And  being  dead" 

"  Ho,  ho  !  -  -  Yes  !  You  bein'  dead 
—  what  did  you  care  !  '  Joe  giggled 
delightedly.  "  And  us  never  sup- 
posin'  for  a  moment  " 

"  I  thought  it  was  very  foolish," 
commented  Amanda. 

Barton  turned  questioningly. 

"  I  mean  coming  up  here,"  ex 
plained  the  girl.  "  But,  you  see,  Joe 
could  n't  get  out  only  about  one 
night  in  the  month  ' 

"  And  that  wasn't  enough,  I  should 
think,"  was  Barton's  reassurance. 

"  Well,  he  did  n't  think  so,"  said 
Amanda. 

"  Nor  you  either,  Amanda,"  ex 
postulated  the  janitor.  "  You  said 
yourself 

94 


THE     GIRL    &•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  Now,  Joe,  you  know  I  never 
said  a  word  about  coming  up 
here." 

"  O  no  !  not  about  coming  up 
here.  Of  course  not.  Have  some 
of  the  grapes,  Mr.  Barton.  You 
did  n't  say  nothin'  about  comin'  up 
here.  That  was  my  brilliant  idea. 
Ha,  ha  !  I  worked  that  one  myself. 
But  if  you  was  to  come  and  see 
me"- 

"  That  was  very  good  of  her, 
Joe,"  suggested  Barton. 

"  That 's  true,  Mr.  Barton,  and  I 
always  tell  her " 

"  But  I  said  to  you,  Joe,  more 
than  once,"  declared  Amanda,  defen 
sively,  "  that  it  was  n't  exactly  right 
to  be  comin'  here  to  a  place  that 
was  n't  mine,  nor  yours  either,  even 
if  the  artist  was  dead." 
95 


THE     GIRL    &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  I  forgive  you,"  said  Barton.  "  I 
can't  see  what  you  will  do  now. 
I  '11  be  in  the  way." 

Amanda  laughed  and  Joe  twisted 
his  restless  face. 

"  Never  mind  !  "  cried  Joe  explo 
sively,  "love  will  find  a  way!' 

"  The  idea  1 '"  ejaculated  Amanda 
sternly. 

"  Perhaps  I  '11  be  leaving  again," 
Barton  remarked  slowly. 

Joe's  hands  dropped.  "  Mr.  Bar 
ton  !  " 

"  I  should  think,"  said  Amanda, 
her  eyes  wide,  "  that  you  would 
want  to  stay  -  -  where  you  are,  for  a 
little  while." 

"You  don't  mean  to  go  back  to 
them  battles  ? '  asked  Joe,  with  a 
perplexed  stare  at  Barton. 

"  No,   not  that.      I    might    go    to 

96 


THE     GIRL    <Sr    THE     GUARDSMAN 

New  York,  for  instance."  Then 
Barton  smiled,  it  may  be  at  a  grim 
thought  of  his  confidence  and  his 
audience.  "  But  don't  worry  over 
that  yet,"  he  added,  catching  up  his 
pipe.  "  Did  I  understand,"  he  asked, 
turning  to  Amanda,  "  that  you  don't 
mind  my  smoking?" 

"  She  won't  let  me,"  remarked 
Joe. 

"  Joe  Gribsey !  I  never  stopped 
you." 

Barton  watched  them  through  the 
smoke.  "  You  see,  Joe,"  he  said, 
"  she  feels  more  responsible  for 
you." 

"  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Barton,"  and  Joe 
put  aside  his  glass,  "  I  often  thought 
of  you  ridin'  up  in  the  front  and 
slashin'  right  into  them,  and  I  wished 

I  was  there  with  you  "  — 
7  97 


THE     GIRL    &•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  The  idea  !  "  exclaimed  Amanda, 
with  a  derisive  inflection. 

"  I  did  wish  I  was  there,"  insisted 
Gribsey  ;  "  right  beside  you,  and 
lettin'  them  have  it.  I  often 
thought "  — 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  Joe,"  pro 
tested  Amanda,  catching  Gribsey 
by  the  sleeve,  "  don't  make  a  fool  of 
yourself!  " 

Joe  turned  resentfully.  "Amanda, 
you  ain't  got  no  patriotism  in  you. 
I  'd  have  gone  to  the  war  if  it  had  n't 
been  for  you.  You  would  n't  let 
me  go." 

"  No,  I  would  n't.  What  good 
would  you  have  been?  You'd  have 
got  lost." 

"Joe,"  suggested  Barton,  "you  had 
better  stay  home  with  her." 

Joe    twisted    his   face    again.      "  I 

98 


THE    GIRL    Sr    THE     GUARDSMAN 

guess  you're  right,  Mr.  Barton.      I  'd 
be  mighty  lonesome,   I  suppose." 

"Yes,"  added  Amanda,  "and 
you  'd  be  full  of  holes.  You  're  so 
slow  you  'd  never  dodge  anythin'." 

At   this  they  all  laughed. 

"  Dodging  is  a  very  important 
part  of  it,"  said  Barton. 

But  Joe  looked  incredulous. 
"  When  Mr.  Hadleigh  was  in  here 
-  about  a  month  ago,  I  think,  the 
last  time,  —  he  told  me  all  about 
how  you  was  shot,  —  killed,  he 
said,  —  and  I  judge  there  wasn't 
no  dodgin'  about  you,  Mr.  Barton. 
They  all  yelled  to  you,  Mr.  Hadleigh 
says,  and  you  would  n't  stop,  and 
that  was  how  it  happened.  This  is 
just  what  he  said  :  '  That  feller,  Joe,' 
he  says,  '  was  n't  afraid  of  nothin' 
at  all.'" 

99 


THE     GIRL     <5r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  Nonsense,"  muttered  Barton. 
"  Why,  Hadleigh  was  right  along 
with  me  —  he  caught  me  when  I 
tumbled  off  the  horse." 

Then  Barton  arose  suddenly  in  a 
way  that  made  the  two  others  under 
stand  that  they  must  go,  which  they 
presently  did,  Joe  carrying  away  the 
empty  bottles. 

They  had  scarcely  gone  when 
there  was  a  tap  at  the  door,  and  an 
old  man  came  in.  It  was  Mor 
gan,  the  painter.  He  strode  over 
to  Barton  with  both  hands  out 
stretched. 

"  It  is  true,  then  !  "  he  cried  husk 
ily,  catching  Barton  by  the  shoulder. 
"  I  did  n't  believe  it.  Welcome,  my 
boy  !  " 

"  Glad  to  see  you  again,  Mr. 
Morgan,"  returned  the  younger  man. 


THE     GIRL    <&•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  I    have    played    truant  for    a    long 
time/5 

"  You  have,  lad,  and  we  all 
thought  you  had  gone  for  good. 
I  thank  God  it  was  a  mistake." 
There  were  tears  on  old  Morgan's 
face.  "  It  is  the  hell  of  war  that 
it  takes  away  our  young  men,  spills 
our  best  blood,  and  leaves  useless  old 
chaps  like  me  behind.  Yes,"  he 
answered  to  the  younger  man's  pro 
testing  look,  "  there  is  something 
infernally  wrong  about  it.  I  remem 
ber,  Barton,  —  no,  I  won't  sit  down 
just  now, —  the  day  you  stood  in 
my  door,  wearing  your  soldier's  togs, 
to  say  good-bye.  After  you  had 
gone  I  dropped  my  brushes  and  sat 
there  brooding,  my  heart  sick,  that 
you  should  be  given  up  and  that  I,  a 
puttering  old  fossil " 

101 


THE     GIRL    &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  Mr.  Morgan,"  interposed  Bar 
ton,  "you  wrong  yourself,  and  I'm 
afraid  you  wrong  me  by  exaggerat 
ing  the  little  service  I  was  able  to 
offer.  Do  you  suppose  any  of  us 
forget  what  you  did  in  '62  ?' 

Morgan  turned  away  and  came 
slowly  back.  "  You  make  me  think 
of  myself,  Barton.  But  it  was  very 
different  with  me.  I  must  tell  you 
about  it  some  other  time.  You  will 
have  your  own  affairs  to-day.  It  is 
all  very  different."  He  paused  at 
the  door  and  turned  about.  "  Yes,  I 
shall  tell  you  all  about  it  some  day,  if 
you  can  be  bothered  with  the  laments 
of  a  lonesome  old  man.  It  was  very 
different  with  me.  I  did  n't  want  to 
come  home.  You  see,  Barton,  I  had 
a  great  disappointment  before  I  went 
away." 


102 


THE    GIRL    &•    THE    GUARDSMAN 

It  was  impossible  that  he  should 
understand  Barton's  look. 

"  I  had  been  crushed.  I  did  n't  go 
for  love  of  my  country.  I  went  in 
hope  of  hurting  some  one  who  had 
hurt  me.  But  I  did  n't  succeed. 
She  never  cared." 

Barton  winced. 

"  Forgive  me,  my  boy,  for  this 
impulsive  whimper.  But  this  thing 
has  brought  everything  back  upon 
me.  I  thought  I  was  hard  as  iron, 
and  the  sight  of  you  has  softened  me 
shamefully.  I  want  your  story  as 
soon  as  you  have  time  to  tell  it. 
Good-bye,  for  to-day.  I  praise  the 
Almighty  that  you  are  safely  back. 
You  have  everything  to  live  for." 

Barton  grasped  the  old  painter's 
hand  in  silence. 


103 


art  ~fi\ 


HIS  was  one  of 
the  ironies  of  life. 
Everything  to  live 
for! 

For  a  long  time 
after  Morgan  had 
gone  Barton  sat 
there  stupidly,  alone 
again  with  himself,  alone  in  his  old 
haunt,  alone  with  all  that  reminded 
him  of  his  earlier  dreams — more 
alone  than  he  had  felt  himself  to 
be  in  the  hospital  cot  where  he 
had  battled  out  the  long  fight  with 

fever. 

104 


THE     GIRL    &    THE    GUARDSMAN 

He  caught  up  a  portfolio  and  lifted 
his  sketches  and  studies  one  by  one 
without  seeing  any.  It  was  no  use. 
His  mind  would  not  work.  His  head 
had  not  been  right  since  the  fever. 
Something  had  broken. 

He  threw  aside  the  portfolio,  lighted 
his  pipe  again  and  tried  to  pull  him 
self  together.  He  must  get  at  his 
letters  and  papers.  There  were 
people  he  must  see.  He  must  take 
his  place  in  the  world  again.  All 
this  seemed  like  a  mountain  of  weight 
upon  him.  He  had  no  heart  for  any 
of  it.  Nothing  seemed  to  be  of  any 
use. 

Providence  had  mixed  things  up  in 
an  astonishing  way.  The  beginning 
of  everything  that  had  gone  wrong 
was  the  day  of  the  skirmish.  It 
was  a  swift  game  they  were  play- 
105 


THE     GIRL     &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

ing  with  the  enemy,  a  nimble  and 
an  ingenious  enemy.  It  was  all  very 
well  to  call  an  enemy  a  savage,  but  a 
Mauser  rifle  is  a  wonderfully  imper 
sonal  agency  of  communication,  tak 
ing  orders  only  from  its  master. 
That  whine  of  the  bullets  —  a  funny 
thing !  And  when  you  are  hit,  that 
is  a  droll  thing,  too,  a  novel  sensation, 
quite  unlike  anything  else  that  ever 
happens  to  you. 

Just  before  that  Hadleigh  had  given 
him  a  quick  look.  Whether  it  ex 
pressed  a  suspicion  that  he  had  been 
hit,  or  some  intuitive  sense  of  an  im 
pending  stroke,  it  said  plainly  enough 
(as  it  seemed  afterward)  "  Good-bye!  " 
When  he  did  reel  from  the  horse  less 
than  a  minute  later  Hadleigh's  arm 
was  there.  Hadleigh  had  given  a 

little  growl  when  he  caught  him,  and 
1 06 


THE     GIRL    &-    THE     GUARDSMAN 

had  muttered  some  question  that  he 
did  not  quite  catch.  When  he  opened 
his  eyes  for  a  moment  Hadleigh's  face 
was  bending  over  him,  and  he  had 
the  feeling  that  Farren,  the  surgeon, 
was  near  by  tearing  at  the  clothes  of 
another  man  who  had  been  hit. 
Then  there  were  two  faces,  and  one 
of  them,  which  was  Farren's,  shook 
sadly,  until,  far  gone  as  he  was,  he 
felt  that  he  might  as  well  go  ahead 
and  die. 

The  next  faces  were  dusky,  and  he 
knew  that  he  was  a  prisoner.  He 
owed  a  big  debt  to  that  Tagalog  lieu 
tenant  with  the  little  hands  and  a 
shadow  of  a  moustache  who  had  done 
so  much  to  make  him  comfortable. 
The  month  of  waiting  for  the  wound 
to  heal  was  not  so  hard  to  bear  as  the 

two  months  of  waiting  for  the  chance 

107 


THE     GIRL    <5r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

to  escape.  That  week's  agony  before 
he  got  to  the  American  camp  was 
what  brought  on  the  fever.  Indeed, 
when  he  staggered  in  on  that  wet 
Sunday  morning  he  was  too  far  gone 
to  understand  what  they  said  about 
the  troop. 

How  they  figured  it  out  that  he 
was  Binton  of  Sandville  made  little 
difference,  after  all.  An  earlier  fugi 
tive  had  carried  word  that  Barton 
died  early  in  his  captivity  ;  so  that,  to 
be  sure,  he  had  to  be  Binton  or  some 
one  else. 

The  fever  was  real.  At  the  end 
of  five  weeks  he  was  well  enough  to 
say  that  he  was  n't  Binton.  Then 
the  nurse  patted  his  head  and  told 
him  to  be  quiet.  After  a  while  he 
asked  them  to  send  word  in  the  de 
spatches  that  he  was  alive — just  as 

108 


THE     GIRL    <&•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

Binton  was  dead.  He  took  it  for 
granted  that  they  complied  with  his 
request,  but  discovered  afterward, 
when  he  got  to  Manila,  that  they 
had  not.  A  singular  rage  then  came 
over  him.  He  let  them  call  him 
Binton  in  the  discharge,  and  after 
writing  a  cable  message  he  tore  the 
thing  up.  "  I  will  carry  my  own 
message,"  he  said. 

Nevertheless,  when  he  got  to  San 
Francisco  he  went  straight  to  the 
telegraph  office.  At  that  moment  he 
learned  that  he  might  catch  an  im 
mediate  train,  and  he  deferred  his 
message  for  the  time.  The  train 
worried  and  sickened  him,  and  once 
or  twice  when  his  obligation  to  an 
nounce  his  coming  appeared  to  him 
he  found  himself  saying,  feverishly, 
"  I  will  carry  my  own  message."  It 
109 


THE     GIRL    &•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

was  a  poor  joke.  He  saw  this  in 
retrospect.  Although  he  did  not 
know  how  sad  a  joke  it  had  been,  he 
let  it  measure  for  him  the  degree  of 
his  weakness. 

The  dusk  was  deepening  and  the 
studio  shadows  were  falling  with 
strange  images.  This  symbolized  for 
him  the  flavor  of  life,  for  the  things 
he  had  taken  for  granted,  had  called 
the  real  things,  the  things  that  were 
worth  while,  were  fading  away, 
and  only  the  fantasies,  the  mocking 
ghosts  of  things,  seemed  to  be  pres 
ent  and  real. 

He  lighted  the  candle  in  the  old 
tall  candlestick,  staring  for  a  while 
into  the  flame,  listening  to  the  dis 
tant  noises  of  the  street,  and  wonder 
ing  what  he  should  do  when  the 
candle  had  burned  out,  —  what 


I  10 


•  The  train  worried  and 
sickened  him." 


THE     GIRL    &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

he  should  do  with  that  hopeless 
night. 

It  was  now  that  he  did  that  which 
he  had  not  the  courage  to  do  in  the 
light  of  day  —  he  lifted  the  curtain 
from  before  the  unfinished  portrait 
he  had  begun  soon  after  they  were 
engaged.  He  had  thought  it  was 
going  to  be  one  of  the  best  things  he 
had  done. 

As  long  ago  as  when  he  had  his 
year  at  Munich,  they  used  to  say  of 
Barton's  pictures  of  women,  that  all 
of  them  had  the  madonna  look,  just 
as  they  said  of  Melkin's  women  that 
they  were  all  grisettes.  At  one  time 
Barton  used  to  think  that  he  resented 
this  comment  as  if  it  implied  a  limi 
tation.  All  of  his  themes  were  not 
madonnas.  He  should  be  able  to 
paint  a  bacchante  if  he  wanted  to. 


1 1 1 


THE     GIRL    «&•     THE     GUARDSMAN 

One  day  when  he  had  impulsively 
expressed  something  of  this  to  Pell- 
mann,  the  master,  Pellmann  after  a 
moment's  silence  said:  "My  friend, 
every  man,  when  he  paints  a  woman, 
paints  the  female  version  of  himself." 
At  which  Barton  laughed,  for  Pell 
mann  was  not  a  flatterer. 

This  picture  of  Edith  exhibited  no 
Might  of  fancy.  It  certainly  was  a 
good  likeness.  She  had  a  pair  of  the 
most  perfect  eyes  he  had  ever  seen. 
There  was  a  girl  who  sat  in  the 
sketch  class  at  the  Art  Student's 
League  who  had  eyes  something 
like  them,  but  that  girl's  eyes  had  too 
much  history  in  them.  This  was  the 
marvellous  thing  about  Edith's  eyes, 
that,  without  the  signs  of  history, 
they  had  such  definite  evidences  of 
perception  and  feeling.  Beyond  the 


THE     GIRL    <&•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

form  and  color  and  movement  was 
the  look,  the  thing  that  made  them 
American  eyes,  that  paradox  of  wist 
ful  intelligence,  of  unawed  inquiry, 
that  piques  and  puzzles  the  foreign 
observer,  and  challenges  the  native  to 
be  his  best. 

Her  nose  was  not  quite  so  good. 
.  .  .  No,  it  was  not  so  perfect, 
though  even  its  faults,  he  said  to  him 
self,  were  never  commonplace.  Her 
mouth  belonged  in  the  partnership 
with  her  eyes.  The  lips  had  that 
regularity,  without  coldness,  that  in 
some  ways  was  harder  to  express  on 
canvas  than  the  elusive  mystery,  the 
feminine  secret  of  her  eyes. 

What  a  mockery  such  a  shadow  of 
her  now  was !  The  painted  lips  were 
not  sullied  by  the  things  she  had  said ; 
but  for  this  very  reason  the  whole 


THE     GIRL    Gr    THE    GUARDSMAN 

face  had  become  to  him  like  that  of 
one  who  was  dead.  The  other  Edith 
had  gone  out  of  his  life.  By  a  trick 
of  fate  this  face  was  no  longer  his. 
Those  lips.  .  .  . 

He  got  up  again,  and  drew  into 
the  rays  of  the  candle  some  of  the 
canvases  that  had  submissively  faced 
the  wall,  like  naughty  children.  Here 
was  Dolly  Cameron,  who  had  worn 
a  gypsy  rig  at  the  lawn  party ;  who 
had  read  his  hand  and  declared  that 
he  was  going  to  live  happily  ever  after. 
Clever  girl,  Dolly ;  but  not  a  good 
prophetess  certainly.  That  was  a 
very  bad  guess  of  Dolly's.  Live  hap 
pily  ever  after  ! 

Ah  !  here  was  old  Nottway,  the 
model,  who  used  to  complain  so  much 
of  his  rheumatism  and  the  stairs  - 

not  peevishly,   nor  indirectly,  but   as 
114 


THE     GIRL     £r    THE    GUARDSMAN 

one  man  to  another.  Poor  old  Nott- 
way !  with  his  white  hair  and  austere 
countenance,  recalling  the  days  when 
he  had  been  a  delegate  to  the  Con 
stitutional  Convention,  when  he  occu 
pied  an  honored  seat  on  the  bench, 
when  they  even  wanted  to  force  upon 
him  the  nomination  for  lieutenant 
governor,  -  -  Nottway,  with  his  courtly 
bow  in  the  presence  of  a  woman  and 
his  magnificent  appetite  for  cheese 
and  beer.  Nottway  was  fit  for  any 
imposing  part.  He  had  been  a  bishop 
for  Hilton,  a  monk  for  Snedeker,  a 
Lear  for  De  Faronne,  a  ruined  banker 
for  Chavin,  an  alchemist  for  Malloy. 
Yea,  one  man  in  his  time  plays 
many  parts. 

This  leonine  face  of  a  woman  was 
painted  from  Gribsey's  mother,  a 
talkative  dame  with  a  convulsive 


THE     GIRL    &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

chuckle,  who  furnished  to  Barton 
much  real  entertainment  by  her  rem 
iniscences  of  Joe's  erratic  boyhood. 
"When  we  had  the  farm,"  said  Mrs. 
Gribsey,  "  before  Samuel  died,  Joe 
used  to  deliver  milk  and  vegetables  in 
Hawsondale.  Somehow  he  always 
had  three  or  four  dogs  with  him,  and 
you  could  tell  by  the  howl  that  went 
up  in  the  village  that  Joe  was  on  one 
of  his  deliverin'  trips.  Them  dog 
rights  got  to  be  such  a  nuisance  that 
we  had  to  forbid  Joe  to  own  a  dog, 
and  we  only  allowed  one  dog  at  the 
farm,  and  made  Joe  chain  this  up 
before  he  started.  But  that  didn't 
do  any  good.  Dogs  waited  for  him 
down  by  the  schoolhouse.  They 
broke  their  chains  in  the  village  to 
join  his  pack.  We  had  lots  of  trouble 
over  it." 

116 


THE     GIRL     <5r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

This  little  pale  blue  fairy  was 
Gladys.  No  easy  thing  to  paint 
Gladys.  It  was  like  painting  a  but 
terfly  on  the  wing.  Young  as  the 
child  was,  she  knew  how  to  tease  him. 
It  was  a  fancy  of  his  that  he  never 
should  be  able  to  keep  her  picture 
in  the  canvas,  and  that  some  day  she 
would  step  out  of  it  and  come  over 
to  tease  him  with  the  flowers  in  her 
hand,  like  some  tangible  fairy  in  this 
world  of  shadows. 

Dreams !  all  dreams  !  Good-bye, 
Gladys !  Good-bye  to  all  your  fairy 
land  of  sweet  ideals !  Good-bye  to 
the  days  when  life  is  too  young  for 
the  deeper  disappointments !  Good 
bye  to  the  days  that  did  not  know 
fever  and  its  legacies ! 

We  take  some  things  hard   when 

they  come  to  us  for  the  first  time,  and 
117 


THE    GIRL    &•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

it  may  be,  as  Barton  was  thinking, 
that  some  things  can  come  but  once. 
Glory  and  grief  have  their  grand 
crescendos.  At  this  hour  the  air  was 
full  of  the  cries  of  salutation  to  the 
victorious  admiral  who  also  had  come 
home  across  the  sea.  Yet  the  victo 
rious  admiral  had  not  sailed  home 
ward  with  a  higher  expectancy  than 
Barton  had  felt  in  his  journey  over 
the  Pacific  and  across  the  continent. 
When  he  had  looked  out  over  the 
prairie,  jaded  as  he  was  by  the  journey, 
the  sky  had  seemed  to  be  written 
wide  with  hope.  Perhaps  he  had 
been  made  a  little  cynical  by  his 
physical  sufferings;  but  no  shadow 
of  real  doubt  or  fear  had  crossed  his 
homeward  path,  and  as  he  drew  near 
to  his  destination  the  unnatural  petu 
lance,  the  brooding  silence  that  ap- 

nS 


THE    GIRL    &•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

peared  in  his  conduct  in  those  last 
hours  at  Manila,  and  in  his  resolution 
to  carry  the  message  himself,  seemed 
to  be  wholly  melting  away. 

A  thousand  times  during  the  jour 
ney  he  had  recalled  the  day  of  the 
parade,  the  first  parade  of  the  troop 
after  their  betrothal,  before  there  was 
any  thought  of  a  war  and  foreign  ser 
vice,  when  she  had  waved  her  hand 
kerchief  to  him,  an  unmistakable 
radiance  shining  in  her  face. 

And  yet  it  is  a  man's  imperative 
duty  to  shut  out  his  troubles,  to  draw 
the  veil  of  his  resolution  against  the 
sight  of  his  grief —  to  forget,  if  he 
can. 

Forget !  It  was  like  trying  to  for 
get  his  fever,  to  forget  that  it  still 
clung  to  him,  sapping  his  nerve,  dull 
ing  his  senses. 

119 


THE     GIRL     <5r     THE    GUARDSMAN 

As  if  to  blot  out  his  cares  he  drew 
the  cloth  over  the  face  of  Edith,  and 
turning  away  flung  himself  upon  the 
couch. 

The  couch  was  a  bed  of  fire,  and 
he  arose  again  to  pace  the  floor,  to 
stop  once  more  before  the  veiled 
frame.  She  was  there,  just  the 
same.  .  .  . 

Far  into  the  morning  he  fell,  ex 
hausted,  into  the  chair  near  the 
frame,  dropped  his  heavy  head  upon 
his  arm,  and  yielded  at  last  to  the 
pitying  caress  of  sleep. 

Some  dreams  are  never  told.  They 
are  for  the  dreamer  alone. 

When  a  man  has  had  a  fever,  and 
the  night  air  bears  an  insidious  chill, 
there  are  things  the  man  should 
not  do.  Yet  the  gray  dawn,  tracing 
anew  with  its  pale  finger  the  night- 


"//  was  like  trying  to 
forget  his  fever.' 


THE    GIRL    &-    THE     GUARDSMAN 

dimmed  images  of  reality,  found  Bar 
ton  still  there,  his  head  upon  his  arm, 
wrapped  in  the  mystery  of  slumber. 

The  city  about  him  waked  and 
stirred,  but  he  slept  on.  There  was 
a  sound  on  the  stair  and  a  knock 
at  his  door,  but  sleep  still  held  his 
senses. 

The  noise  did  not  arouse  him,  but 
who  shall  explain  the  potency  of  an 
other  life  near  our  own,  another  heart 
beating  high,  other  lips  quivering  in 
a  strong  emotion  ? 

The  door  had  been  standing  ajar, 
and  a  rustling  figure  crept  in  like  the 
dawn  itself.  .  .  . 

When  Barton  staggered  to  his  feet 
he  found  himself  staring  at  Edith,  or 
what  might  have  been  Edith,  per 
haps;  Edith,  her  white  garden  hat 
fallen  to  her  shoulders,  her  raglan 


THE     GIRL    <5r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

suggesting  somehow  a  hurried,  im 
pulsive  departure  from  the  house. 

For  a  moment  neither  of  them 
made  a  sound.  That  she  should  be 
other  than  some  creature  of  his 
dreams  was  to  Barton  beyond  belief. 
That  she  who  had  dismissed  him  yes 
terday  with  such  unspeakable  preci 
sion  should  now  be  standing  there  at 
the  studio  door  in  the  early  morning 
light  was  too  much  for  his  fevered 
head  to  grasp  at  once. 

"Edwin!"  she  cried,  starting  for 
ward  under  the  restraint  of  the  un 
readable  stare  in  his  eyes.  "  Did 
you  —  did  you  write  that  cruel  note 
about  Marcus  ?  Did  you  send  this 
locket  back  to  me  ? " 

"Yes,"  he  said  slowly,  "  I  did." 

"  It  is  no  --no  trick,  then  —  they 
came  from  you  ? ' 


THE     GIRL     &•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

She  made  as  if  to  go  closer  to  him, 
her  hands  working.  One  of  the 
hands  held  the  locket. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  again,  "  they 
did." 

"  I  can't  believe  "  -  she  looked 
abjectly  at  him.  "O  Edwin!  what 
did  you  mean  ?  If  I  had  disappointed 
you"- 

"  Disappointed  me  !  My  God  !  " 
Barton  made  a  tortured  gesture. 
"  Disappointed  me !  Hear  her  !  " 
He  drew  himself  up,  his  fingers 
clutching  a  corner  of  the  nearby  desk. 
"  Did  you  come  here  to  tell  me  I 
was  a  fool  to  be  disappointed  ?  It  is 
an  extraordinary  mark  of  considera 
tion.  A  man  is  a  great  fool  to  be 
disappointed." 

"O  Edwin!  you  are  disappoint 
ing  me." 

123 


THE     GIRL    <5r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  Perhaps  I  am,"  he  returned,  with 
a  bitter  inflection.  "Perhaps  I  won't 
do  myself  any  credit  as  I  am  now. 
You  see  —  some  things  that  I  have 
gone  through  with  have  unsteadied  me 
a  little,  made  it  hard  for  me  to  take 
disappointment  in  a  light,  easy  way. 
It  is  a  pity.  But  it  can't  make  any 
difference  to  you.  You  are  foolish  to 
concern  yourself  over  so  small  a 
matter." 

"  So  small  a  matter  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him  in  despair,  draw 
ing  back  until  she  stood  again  by  the 
door.  And  this  was  Barton  -  -  Bar 
ton,  her  lover,  dwindling  from  his 
heroic  lines  because  she,  believing 
him  dead,  had  listened  to  his  friend. 
For  this  offence,  these  insults. 

"  So  small  a  matter,"  repeated  Bar 
ton  in  a  hard  tone,  his  lip  quivering. 
124 


.<*'• 


'But  s/.'i'  bad  passed 
down  the  stair." 


THE     GIRL    «&•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

And  this  was  Edith  Lynwood,  the 
girl  who  had  seemed  to  love  him 
before  all  the  world,  yet  who  was 
not  content  to  let  him  suffer  undis 
turbed  from  the  steady,  unmitigated 
blow  she  had  inflicted  the  day  before. 

"  Pardon  me  !  "  he  blurted,  "  I 
might  have  offered  you  a  chair  after 
this  climb." 

She  wished  to  speak  again,  but  she 
was  choking. 

As  for  Barton,  the  room  swam 
about  him  and  there  was  a  loud  noise 
in  his  ears. 

When  she  went  out  suddenly,  with 
out  another  word,  he  faltered  as  if 
to  follow  her,  and  stumbled  like  a 
wounded  man.  He  got  to  his  feet 
again  and  sprang  to  the  door. 

But  she  had  passed   down  the  stair. 


125 


HEN  the  fluttering 
figure  of  her  young 
mistress  came  back 
through  the  garden, 
not  pausing  any 
where,  and  passed 
to  the  second-floor 
room  without  a 
sound,  Amanda  Maud  saw  and  won 
dered.  Plainly  there  was  some  mys 
terious  significance  in  this  early 
morning  absence,  in  this  silent,  al 
most  stealthy  return. 
126 


THE     GIRL    &•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

Amanda  worked  with  a  slightly 
accelerated  rapidity,  singing  softly  her 
favorite  unfinished  song  about  the 
"wild  moor,"  with  more  than  the 
usual  effect  of  being  detached  from 
the  key.  The  truth  is  that  Amanda's 
variations  from  true  tone  had  that 
invariableness  in  which  the  listener 
often  finds  a  new  and  original  har 
mony,  a  peculiar  and  fascinating  con 
sistency,  that  gives  to  the  major  a  fine 
minor  flavor  which  even  an  exacting 
taste  might  hesitate  to  lose. 

A  little  later  in  the  morning 
Amanda  appeared  in  her  habitual 
house-dress,  of  which  the  skirt  was  a 
shade  too  short  to  be  conventional. 
Hadleigh  once  had  remarked  that 
Amanda  looked  like  a  light-opera 
housemaid.  Wherever  she  acquired 

the   inspiration,   Amanda  clung  with 

127 


THE     GIRL    £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

a  certain  characteristic  insistence  to 
her  short  skirt  and  to  the  little  lace 
cap  on  her  head, — an  ornament 
which  Edith  scarcely  regarded  as 
consonant  with  the  simplicity  of 
their  suburban  menage,  but  which  ex 
isted  and  prevailed  (like  certain  other 
domestic  minutia?)  in  deference,  or 
at  least  in  acquiescence,  to  Amanda's 
harmlessly  authoritative  habits. 

In  justice  to  Amanda,  it  is  to  be 
observed  that  the  garb  of  black,  with 
the  linen  and  the  flip  of  lace  in  her 
hair,  was  entirely  becoming,  though 
this  was  not  a  point  which  really 
appeared  to  weigh  with  her. 

That  Amanda  was,  indeed,  in 
fluenced  by  certain  infrequent  but 
memorable  visits  to  the  theatre,  ap 
peared  in  other  of  her  preferences. 

She  had  ventured  to  suggest  that  Mr. 

128 


THE    GIRL    &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

Tibbetts  should  wear  spats  and  a  house 
coat  with  a  green  quilted  lining.  Her 
habit  in  the  announcement  of  callers 
likewise  was  traceable  to  a  sense  of 
the  pictorial  and  the  dramatic.  She 
resented  the  fact  that  there  was  not 
a  footman  who  should  be  impertinent 
and  whom  she  should  strike  playfully 
with  her  duster. 

But  there  was  nobody  but  Joe 
Gribsey,  who,  singularly,  filled  no 
theatrical  ideal,  and  whom  she  ha 
bitually  chided  for  being  unkempt  and 
impossible.  Joe  was  her  one  reserva 
tion, —  a  circumstance  in  which  we 
may  perceive  a  cheering  feminine 
characteristic. 

There  was,  however,  one  particular 
in  which  Joe  soothed,  if  he  did  not 
altogether  meet,  Amanda's  romantic 
ideals.  He  wrote  frequent  and  al- 

9  129 


THE     GIRL    &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

most  ardent  letters.  On  this  morn 
ing  Amanda  found  herself  re-reading 
a  letter  from  Joe  that  was  at  least 
three  days  old. 

"  Dear  Amanda  [it  said]  :  As  usual,  I 
have  been  thinking  about  you  all  day.  I 
have  quite  a  headache  to-night,  so  I  thought 
I  would  write  you  a  few  lines." 

"Now  that's  what  I  call  silly," 
murmured  Amanda  to  herself,  "  and 
he  calls  seven  pages  a  few  lines. 
Huh  !  A  few  lines !  I  wish  he  had 
took  writin'  lessons.  He  writes  as 
bad  as  Mr.  Tibbetts.  I  suppose  it 's 
what  they  call  a  business  hand." 

"  I  guess  you  know,  Amanda  [the  let 
ter  continued],  that  I  never  think  of  no 
body  but  you.  I  don't  think  I  could  if  1 
wanted  to.  You  fill  my  inmost  thoughts. 
Why  that  Miss  Mitson,  the  woman  artist 
at  the  back  said  yesterday  that  she  was 
130 


'Re-reading  a  Idler 
from  Joe." 


THE     GIRL    &    THE    GUARDSMAN 

very  fond  of  me  think  of  that.  You 
know  the  one  I  mean  the  one  that  paints 
cats.  I  got  her  a  new  cat  yesterday.  She 
says  I  would  make  a  good  husband  for 
some  nice  girl." 

"The  idea!"  cried  Amanda,  and 
the  words  might  have  passed  for  a 
salutation,  since  Joe  himself  inoppor 
tunely  appeared  at  the  door,  shorn  of 
even  his  usually  primitive  effects  of 
special  decoration.  Evidently  he  had 
left  the  Board  of  Trade  Building  in 
a  hurry. 

"  What 's  that  you  're  readin', 
Amanda?" 

"  None  of  your  business,  Joe  Grib- 
sey.  Tell  me  right  off  what  on  earth 
you  're  doin'  here  ?  I  suppose  you  '11 
be  discharged  before  you  get  back. 
Anybody  'd  think  you  had  n't  seen 
nobody  yesterday  afternoon." 


THE    GIRL    <5r    THE      GUARDSMAN 

"  That  ain't  answerin'  my  question, 
Amanda.      What  are  you  readin'  ?  " 
"  I  told  you  none  of  your  business." 
Joe    rashly    seized    her    about    the 
waist,  and  sought  to  catch  hold  of  the 
letter  which  she  firmly  withheld. 
"  Joe  Gribsey,  let  me  go  !  " 
"  Let  me  see  the  letter,  Amanda." 
"  I  won't.      I  told  you  to  let  me 
go  —  or  I'll  use  force." 
"  After  you  let  me  see  " 
Amanda  had  a  strong  arm,  and  there 
was  a  fine  "unhand  me"  quality   in 
her   method   of  casting  off  Joe,  who 
contributed     a     perhaps      unexpected 
grotesqueness  to  his  repulse  by  sprawl 
ing  on  the  floor. 

"  Well,  you  need  n't  'a'  been  so 
rough,  Amanda,"  complained  the  de 
feated  janitor. 

"Then    please    keep    your  place," 

132 


THE    GIRL    £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

observed  Amanda,  showing  him  her 
white  teeth. 

"  I  suppose  you  mean  stay  here/' 
growled  Joe.  "  O,  I  can  keep  my 
place  !  I  can  take  a  hint.  A  person 
don't  have  to  explain  things  so  much 
to  me.  When  I  ain't  welcome  I  can 
generally  tell  it.  When  people  don't 
want  to  see  me  when  I  come 
special " 

"  Joe  Gribsey,"  she  commanded, 
"  don't  draw  a  long  face,  now.  Have 
some  sense.  What  did  you  come 
for  ?  I  should  say  you  was  out  of 
your  head  comin'  this  time  of  day  and 
riskin'  your  place." 

"  It  ain't  my  senses  that's  wrong," 
complained  Joe,  appropriating  a  com 
paratively  remote  chair  near  the 
door. 

"  I  suppose  you  mean  mine,"  re- 
'33 


THE     GIRL     <&•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

torted  Amanda,  lifting  her  eyebrows 
at  him. 

"  No,  I  don't;  I  mean  the  soldier's." 

"  O  !      Is  he  actin'  queer  too  ? ' 

"  I  should  say  so.  It  beats  the 
cars  the  way  things  has  been  goin'." 

"  Since  I  was  there  ?  " 

"Yep.  This  mornin'.  First  very 
early  comes  your  Miss  Lynwood." 

"  Miss  Lynwood  ?" 

"  Yep.  That  was  funny,  was  n't 
it?" 

"  I  knew  it,"  remarked  Amanda, 
which  was  not  true ;  but  it  was  un 
desirable,  for  reasons  of  discipline,  that 
Joe  should  be  flattered  by  the  privi 
lege  of  conveying  too  much  infor 
mation. 

"Did  she  tell  you?" 

"No;  of  course  not.  But  I  knew 
it." 

»34 


"And  pretty  soon,"  Joe  went  on, 
"she  goes  downstairs  cryin'." 

"Cryin'?" 

"  Cryin'  soft  to  herself.  It  broke 
me  all  up.  I  was  standin'  then  in  by 
Morgan's  door.  She  did  n't  see  me. 
Then  I  found  this  locket  on  the 
steps.  I  know  it 's  hers,"  added  Joe, 
as  Amanda  came  over  to  take  the 
trinket  from  his  hand. 

"  It  's  the  locket  he  gave  me  to 
take  to  her,"  said  Amanda. 

"By  and  by  I  hear  him  walkin' 
up  and  down  the  place.  Then  v/hen 
I  come  upstairs  next  time  it  was 
quiet  and  I  knocked  at  the  door. 
1  Come  in,'  he  says,  and  there  he  is 
sittin'  in  front  of  Miss  Lynwood's 
picture  lookin'  like  a  ghost  for  fair 
this  time.  *I  wish  you'd  get  me 
some  breakfast,  Joe,'  he  says.  But 
135 


THE    GIRL    <&•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

he  did  n't  eat  it,  and  when  that  Eye- 
talian  feller  that  sells  casts  came  up 
he  nearly  threw  him  downstairs.  By 
and  by  he  was  walkin'  and  walkin' 
again.  What  's  up,  Amanda  ?  It 
seems  an  awful  pity." 

"What 's  up  ?"  returned  Amanda, 
with  a  touch  of  commiseration  for 
her  companion's  inferior  perceptions. 
"  You  can  see  what 's  up.  They  've 
had  words." 

"  But  can't  they  get  over  it  like 
us?" 

"Amanda!"  came  the  metallic 
tones  of  Mr.  Tibbetts,  who  stood 
somewhat  flushed  in  the  door 
way. 

"  Lord  !  how  you  frightened  me, 
Mr.  Tibbetts!  " 

"That,"   declared     Mr.     Tibbetts, 

"  is    because    your  mind    is  wander- 
136 


THE    GIRL    <2r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

ing  and  your  conscience  unprepared. 
Where  is  my  hat  ?  " 

"  Which  hat,  Mr.  Tibbetts  ?  " 

"The  soft  brown  hat." 

"With  the  black  band?" 

"Yes." 

"  I  don't  know,  Mr.  Tibbetts.  I 
ain't  seen  it  lately." 

The  old  man  fidgeted  angrily. 
"  You  've  been  cleaning  up  around 
here  again,  I  suppose ! " 

"  Mr.  Tibbetts,  that  ain't  so.  I 
ain't  cleaned  nothin'." 

Amanda  looked  resentfully  after 
the  retreating  figure.  "  That 's  the 
way  he  's  been  actin',"  she  sighed  to 
Joe.  "  What  are  they  all  crazy 
about?" 

"  I  tell  you,  Amanda,"  asserted  Joe, 
with  a  consoling  effect,  "  it's  this  love 
business.  It  makes  everybody  a  little 
!37 


THE     GIRL    <&•     THE     GUARDSMAN 

crazy  sooner  or  later.  Mr.  Tibbetts 
is  got  it  like  the  rest.  He 's  been 
spoonin'  around  the  widder  Willis 
lately,  and  I  suppose  the  people  in  the 
widder  Willis's  house  is  wonderin' 
what  she  '  s  crazy  about." 

Amanda  grinned  appreciatively,  an 
oblique  glance  of  reminiscence  in  her 
eyes. 

"  Anyway,  Amanda,  I  wish  we 
could  get  this  patched  up  somehow." 

"  Us  ?  "  demanded  the  girl. 

"Yep,  why  not?  Mr.  Barton '11 
just  worry  me  sick  if  things  keep 
on  this  way.  Look  here,  Amanda,'' 
and  Joe  hitched  his  chair  nearer  to 
the  other  into  which  Amanda  had 
debatingly  dropped.  "  I  '11  bet  it  's 
just  like  it  was  with  us  that  time  - 
just  a  mistake." 

Amanda  nodded  conservatively. 
'38 


THE     GIRL    &-    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  Very  likely,"  she    said. 

"  Maybe  it  's  about  that  other  fel 
ler  you  tell  me  about." 

She  looked  at  him  squarely.  "  Mr. 
Hadleigh  ? " 

"  Yep." 

"I've  been  thinkin'  that,"  said 
Amanda,  judicially.  This  was  not 
true  either,  but  it  was  necessary  to 
preserve  her  priority.  "  I  dare  say 
that 's  where  the  trouble  is."  She 
looked  down  at  the  locket.  "  I  wish 
I  knew  what  to  do  with  this." 

"Won't  you  give  it  to  her?" 

"I  was  just  thinkin',"  mused 
Amanda,  a  sense  of  grave  respon 
sibility  in  her  tone. 

At  this  Mr.  Tibbetts  reappeared. 
"Young  man,"  he  said  to  Joe, 
"which  way  are  you  going  when  you 
go  ? " 

'39 


THE    GIRL    £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  Down  Wilton  Avenue,  sir." 

"  I  wish,"  continued  Mr.  Tibbetts, 
his  manner  indicating  some  new  con 
viction  or  resolve,  —  Amanda  won 
dered  whether  he  had  hopelessly 
abandoned  the  search  for  his  hat, — 
"  I  wish  you  would  deliver  this  letter 
for  me  at  the  office  of  the  Fordwell 
Company.  It  must  positively  get 
there  before  twelve  o'clock,  under 
stand,  or  else,"  and  Mr.  Tibbetts  bent 
a  severe  admonitory  glance  upon  Joe, 
"you  might  as  well  not  take  it  at  all. 
It  is  very  important." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Joe,  meekly,  as 
Mr.  Tibbetts  retreated. 

The  janitor  continued  to  hold  his 
hand  where  it  had  poised  itself  to  re 
ceive  the  silver  sop  which  accompa 
nied  the  letter.  He  worked  his  palm 

reflectively,  grimacing  at  the  dime. 

140 


THE    GIRL    &    THE    GUARDSMAN 

"The  old  man  is  very  economical, 
ain't  he,  Amanda?" 

"Well,  he'd  never  throw  nothin' 
away,"  admitted  the  girl.  "He'll 
expect  you  to  run  your  legs  off  for 
that." 

"  A  dime 's  a  dime,  anyway," 
expressed  Joe's  philosophy  of  the 
moment. 

This  being  sufficiently  uncombat- 
able,  Amanda  contented  herself  with 
saying,  "  Now,  you  'd  better  skip, 
Joe." 

Joe  turned  resentfully.  "That's 
right,  Amanda,  chase  me  out.  Well, 
I  can  take  a  hint.  Good-bye  !  " 

This  was  accompanied  by  one  of 
Joe's  inelegant  essays  at  an  embrace. 

"  Joe  Gribsey,  let  me  go  !  " 

"  Good-bye,  Amanda." 

"  I  tell  you  to  let  me  go,"  warned 
141 


THE    GIRL     <Sr     THE     GUARDSMAN 

the  girl,  her  head  splendidly  reserved, 
and  a  moment  later  Joe's  voice  issued 
from  the  back  porch.  "  Well,  you 
need  n't  'a'  been  so  rough,  Amanda." 

But  Amanda  only  smiled  her  im 
perturbable  smile,  watching  the  young 
man  as  he  disappeared  through  the 
gate. 

Then  her  smile  turned  to  a  thought 
ful  frown.  Certainly  it  was  a  great 
pity  that  matters  should  be  moving  in 
this  way.  Amanda's  admiration  for 
Edith  Lynwood  had  been  definite  and 
controlling  from  the  first.  It  was 
impossible  that  any  of  Amanda's 
emotions  should  be  accompanied  by 
awe,  yet  her  devotion  to  Miss  Lyn 
wood  had  in  it  much  of  real  rever 
ence.  Her  first  impression  that  it 
was  a  lonesome  household  had  not 

been  due  to  any  deficiency  in  its  mis- 
142 


THE     GIRL    <&•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

tress.  Edith  had  always  been  cheer 
ful  and  amiable.  The  face  of  that 
portrait  of  her  mother  in  the  little 
drawing-room  might  have  prophesied 
that  she  would  be  —  Amanda  often 
paused  before  this  face  with  feelings 
of  large  respect.  Had  Joe  Gribsey 
been  less  jealous  of  a  sacred  security 
in  everything  at  the  studio,  she  might 
have  seen  there  something  like  a  new 
version  of  the  same  face. 

Perhaps  because  the  portrait  of 
Edith  had  been  painted  at  the  Lyn- 
wood  house —  all  save  one  sitting 
at  the  studio  —  Joe  never  had  had 
information  of  the  relationship,  and, 
indeed,  never  until  now  had  seen  the 
portrait  uncovered.  Amanda's  vague 
information  about  a  lover  of  Miss 
Edith's  who  had  not  returned  from 
the  cruel  excursions  of  war,  had 
'43 


THE     GIRL    fir    THE     GUARDSMAN 

reached  her  through  the  lame  old 
man  who  came  every  day  to  work  in 
the  garden.  Ernst  was  rich  in  social 
and  domestic  news,  and  he  had  made 
one  or  two  comments  on  Hadleigh 
with  an  allusion  to  "dead  men's 
shoes "  which  Amanda  regarded  as 
revolting,  and  said  so. 

When,  after  Hadleigh  began  com 
ing  regularly,  Amanda  had  occasion 
ally  noticed  a  strange  quiet  in  Edith, 
she  had  taken  the  liberty  of  conclud 
ing  that  that  first  affair  must  have 
been  very  serious  indeed.  Yet  this 
quiet  was  not  to  be  compared  with 
the  mood  that  had  appeared  within 
the  past  twenty-four  hours  —  since 
the  soldier  came  home. 

If  anything  was  wrong  the  sol 
dier  was  to  blame.  This  was  plain 

enough  to  Amanda.      It  came  to  her 

i44 


THE     GIRL     «&•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

strongly  this  morning  —  came  a  little 
fiercely  when  she  saw  the  pitifully 
white  look  in  Edith's  face  at  the  li 
brary  window  where  her  mistress  was 
mechanically  fixing  the  flowers. 

"  Miss  Edith,"  said  Amanda,  with 
a  defiant  tenderness,  "  you  ought  to 
do  something  for  them." 

"For  what,  Amanda?" 

"  Them  mopes." 

"  Mopes  ? " 

"  O,  I  can  see  you  got  'em,  Miss 
Edith.  I  've  had  'em  myself,"  she 
added,  as  if  the  experience  had  given 
her  the  right  to  speak  with  authority. 

"  What  did  you  do  for  them, 
Amanda?" 

"  Why  -  -  I  always  went  to  see 
him  —  but  of  course  you  could  n't  do 
that,"  Amanda  continued,  conscious 
of  a  deceit. 

10  145 


THE    GIRL    £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

A  softness  came  momentarily  into 
the  fixed  lines  of  Edith's  lips. 

"  And  suppose  that  you  went  to 
see  hirn,  Amanda,  and  that  it  did  n't 
cure  them  ? " 

Amanda  frowned.  "  Then  I  'd 
make  him  come  and  see  me,  and  I  'd 
keep  it  up.  There  ain't  nothing 
else  to  do,  Miss  Edith.  Men  is 
strange  animals,  anyway.  Joe  Grib- 
sey  's  just  been  here." 

"  Has  he,  Amanda  ?  "  Edith  had 
turned  away  from  the  window,  and 
paused  again.  As  if  to  conceal  the 
origin  of  this  emotion  of  interest,  she 
added,  "  Why  did  n't  you  call  me  ? 
Then  I  might  have  believed  that 
there  is  such  a  person." 

"  Well,  he  was  here,"  Amanda 
proceeded,  "  and  he  says  the  soldier  's 

actin'    very    queer,    walkin'    up    and 

.46 


THE     GIRL    &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

down,  starin'  at  your  picture,  throwin' 
Eyetalians  downstairs,  and  not  eatin' 
a  bite  of  food." 

"You  will  have  to  prescribe  for 
him  too,  Amanda." 

"  O,  I  daresay  he  needs  a  dressin' 
down,"  returned  Amanda.  "  When 
a  man  gets  the  mopes  you  have  to  be 
rough  with  him.  Gentleness  don't 

g°-" 

Whether  she  felt  that  it  was  time 
to  withdraw,  or  feared  to  trust  the 
rising  tide  of  her  resentment  against 
the  soldier,  Amanda  went  away,  leav 
ing  Edith  standing  by  the  window, 
standing  in  that  restless  stillness  which 
dulls  the  edge  of  courage  and  wears 
the  patience  of  the  heart. 

Perhaps  Edith's  dominant  feeling 
was  one  of  bitter  disappointment. 
Without  the  master  key  to  the  situ- 
'47 


THE     GIRL    <5r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

ation --without  knowledge  of  the 
grotesque  chance  by  which  the  situ 
ation  had  been  created  -  -  Barton's 
conduct  could  not  seem  otherwise 
than  inexplicable.  He  appeared  to 
be  yielding  to  impulses  that  might 
well  have  been  adjudged  too  small 
to  master  him.  The  tragic  story  of 
his  death  had  been  a  blinding  blow. 
In  that  hour  how  trite  and  inade 
quate  had  been  every  conventionality 
of  consolation  !  How  she  had  hated 
every  note  of  commiseration  !  How 
she  had  rebelled — and  bent,  under 
the  blow  !  Then  she  had  been  forced 
to  face  the  different  distress  of  the 
Hadleigh  mistake  —  the  mistake  of 
believing  that  her  high  friendship  for 
him  was  sufficient.  It  had  taken 
what  seemed  like  the  last  of  her 

courage  to  frame  the  clumsy  dismissal 

148 


THE     GIRL    <5-    THE     GUARDSMAN 

of  his  claims  as  a  lover.  But  was  not 
this  the  worst  of  all  —  to  find  Barton 
so  poor  in  charity  for  her,  ready  to 
make  so  mean  an  estimate  of  her 
faith,  ready  to  condemn  and  to  stab 
without  a  hearing  ?  It  was  so  little, 
so  disenchanting.  It  was  the  old 
story.  The  dead  in  whom  we  believe 
are  less  a  sorrow  than  the  living  who 
have  hurt  our  faith. 

"  My  dear  !  " 

Mr.  Tibbetts  revealed  himself  in 
a  condition  of  restrained  excitement. 
He  was  one  of  those  in  whom  the 
counterfeit  of  calm  is  always  gro 
tesquely  transparent.  At  the  present 
moment  Mr.  Tibbetts  was  putting  on 
his  hat  and  taking  it  off  again  (for 
whatever  reason,  it  was  his  silk  hat), 
looking  at  his  watch  and  putting  the 
thing  back  into  his  pocket,  slowly, 
i49 


THE    GIRL    &•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

as  if  he  were  debatively  relinquishing 
the  minutes. 

Edith,  without  speaking,  crossed 
the  room  with  a  dull  steadiness  and 
straightened  her  uncle's  tie. 

"  My  dear,"  repeated  Mr.  Tibbetts, 
"  I  shall  be  back  in  a  little  while." 
He  was  looking  over  her  shoulder. 
"  I  have  some  business  in  the  city." 

Edith  nodded  and  recrossed  the 
room.  Her  uncle  paused  at  the  door. 

"  I  want  to  see  you  when  I  get 
back,"  he  continued,  "  about  —  about 
a  little  matter.  In  fact,  about  some 
thing  of  much  importance." 

The  girl  turned  with  a  languid 
curiosity. 

"You  will  be  here,  Edith?" 

"  Yes,  uncle." 

"  Eh  -  -  I  'm  afraid,  my  dear,  that 

you  are  upset  a  little  by  this  news  — 

150 


'Her  limit'  paused 
at  //v  fhor." 


THE     GIRL    <Sr    THE     GUARDSMAN 

extraordinary  news,  is  it  not?  —  that 
Barton  is  back." 

"  I  shall  get  over  it,  uncle,"  she 
said  quietly. 

"  It  is  very  extraordinary,"  repeated 
Mr.  Tibbetts. 

Then  Edith  heard  his  feet  stammer 
in  the  hall. 


'OE  came  into  the 
studio  diffidently.  Joe 
had  no  habitual  dif 
fidence.  He  was  not 
without  his  own  sort 
of  sensibility,  but  his 
imagination  never  an 
ticipated  disaster.  With  regard  to 
the  case  of  Barton,  he  felt  that  grave 
crises  impended.  Distressing  things 
already  had  happened,  and  doubtless 
there  was  further  trouble  ahead. 
"  You  better  eat  something,  after 

all,  Mr.  Barton,"  he  ventured  to  say. 
152 


THE     GIRL    &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  The  band  ain't  playin'  now,  and 
you  can't  go  with  so  little." 

Barton  was  lying  on  a  couch  in  a 
corner  of  his  studio,  trying  to  pull 
himself  together.  The  effort  con 
tinued  to  call  up  monumental  diffi 
culties.  He  felt  as  if  the  bottom 
had  dropped  out  of  the  world,  and 
as  if  he  had  an  exceedingly  insecure 
grip  on  the  sides  thereof. 

For  an  hour  after  Edith's  visit  he 
had  been  too  dazed  and  crushed  to 
think.  Wounded  to  the  quick,  ex 
asperated  with  fate,  disappointed  with 
himself,  mystified  by  a  sense  of  some 
thing  fantastically  perverse  and  unreal 
in  the  disaster  which  had  overwhelmed 
him,  he  found  himself  weighted  by 
an  unconquerable  stupor. 

He  had  called  himself  many  and 
various  hard  names.  He  also  had 
'S3 


THE    GIRL    &     THE     GUARDSMAN 

made  some  uncomplimentary  remarks 
to  certain  intruders.  At  one  moment 
he  called  this  the  fever.  At  another 
he  called  it  his  natural  depravity. 
Neither  conclusion  gave  him  any 
comfort. 

There  was  no  gratification  in  abus 
ing  Gribsey,  for  Joe  took  it  all  with 
real  grief. 

"  Let  me  alone,  Joe,"  returned 
Barton  to  Gribsey's  suggestion  about 
food.  "  I  '11  be  all  right  after  a 
while." 

"  Maybe/'  remarked  Joe.  "  But 
I  say,  when  in  doubt,  eat." 

"  By  and  by,  Joe." 

Gribsey  contemplated  the  soldier 
with  a  serious  eye,  as  if  to  penetrate 
the  pathology  of  the  situation. 

"  That    lady   in    there    that    paints 
cats,"   pursued  Joe,   "says  that  what 
'54 


THE     GIRL    «Sr    THE     GUARDSMAN 

you  need  is  something  to  build  up 
your  strength.  She  says  you  're  all 
run  down.'* 

"What  does  she  suggest?"  de 
manded  Barton,  in  a  tone  that  gave 
Gribsey  a  fresh  anxiety. 

Joe  faltered  backward  a  step. 
"  Baked  p'taters,  she  says." 

"  I  hate  potatoes,"  growled  Barton, 
"  especially  baked  potatoes,  and  above 
all,  baked  potatoes  suggested  by  a  lady 
who  paints  cats." 

"O,"  ejaculated  Joe.  "I  don't 
think  you're  so  much  run  down  as 
you  are  upset.  Something  or  other," 
put  forward  the  janitor  with  a  mean 
ing  emphasis,  "  has  just  knocked  you 
over." 

"  I  guess  you  're  right,  Joe.  And 
I  don't  think  you  can  do  anything 
for  me.  Don't  worry.  Go  and  see 
155 


THE     GIRL    «&•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

your  Amanda  Maud --if  that's  her 
name." 

"  I  did,"  responded  Joe  briskly. 
"  I  just  been." 

"  O,  you  have,  have  you  ? '  Barton 
looked  up. 

"  And  she  says  that  Miss  Lyn- 
wood  's  actin'  just  about  as  queer  as 
you  are." 

"  She  does,  does  she  ?  What  a 
shame  !  "  Barton  got  himself  out  of 
the  couch.  "  Joe,  I  guess  the 
world's  going  queer.  Except  you 
and  Amanda,  and  the  lady  who  paints 
cats,  I  can't  see  that  any  of  us  is 
just  right.  To  tell  you  the  truth, 
I  'm  going  to  get  into  some  other 
clothes  and  take  a  turn  outdoors 
somewhere.  And  let  me  give  you 
a  friendly  word  of  advice,  Joe." 
Barton  swung  about  with  a  look 
156 


THE     GIRL    <5r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

quite  unreadable  to  the  janitor  :  "  If 
you  ever  happen  to  die,  stay  dead" 

Finding  it  impossible,  by  any  un 
aided  effort  of  mind,  to  interpret 
practically  the  larger  meanings  of 
this  counsel,  Gribsey  silently  went 
away. 

In  a  few  moments  he  came  back. 

"A  young  lady  from  the  Express 
is  looking  for  you,  Mr.  Barton." 

"Tell  her  I  'm  dead,"  said  Barton, 
from  behind  the  curtain  of  the  dress 
ing-room. 

Joe  debated  between  a  grin  and  a 
frown. 

"  She  knows  you  got  back." 

"Tell  her  I  was  found  dead  — 
again  —  this  morning." 

Joe  backed  to  the  door.  "  O,  well, 
she  '11  want  to  see  you,  anyhow.  She  's 
got  a  camera." 


THE     GIRL    <5r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  Then  tell  her  they  are  dressing 
the  corpse  and  to  come  back  in  an 
hour." 

Nevertheless,  the  young  lady  from 
the  Express  came  back  in  fifteen 
minutes,  and  Barton,  wearing  a  garb 
to  which  the  exigencies  of  war  long 
had  made  him  a  stranger,  let  her  in. 

He  recognized  her  as  little  Miss 
Price,  who  was  not  very  clever,  but 
who  was  always  likably  frank  and 
energetic. 

"Mr.  Barton!"  she  cried,  with 
genuine  feeling.  "  I  'm  so  glad  to 
see  you ! 

"  Sorry  to  spoil  your  story,"  said 
Barton,  "  about  the  hero  business 
and  death  among  the  Filipinos." 

"O,  but  you  were  a  hero — and 
you  are  a  hero  more  than  ever  now," 
insisted  Miss  Price.  "How  delighted 


THE     GIRL    &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

all  your  family  and  friends  must  be  ! 
Won't  you  tell  me  all  about  it  ? 
Have  you  got  time  to  tell  me  some 
thing  for  to-day's  Express  ?  " 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  have  n't,"  replied 
Barton.  "You  see  I'm  feeling  pretty 
seedy  yet.  After  the  fever,  you 
know  ' 

"  But  you  must  tell  me  how  you 
were  captured  —  O,  we  had  that  !  I 
mean  what  they  did  with  you  and 
how  you  got  away.  Were  the 
savages  very  cruel  ?  How  on  earth 
did  they  come  to  report  you  killed  ? 
—  I  mean  the  officials.  We  had  a 
dreadful  half-tone  of  you  -  -  we  have 
been  working  half-tones  for  a  year 
now.  They  are  getting  up  a  better 
one  for  this  afternoon.  We  only 
heard  about  it  this  morning  some 
how.  Wasn't  it  telegraphed  at  all?" 
159 


THE     GIRL     <&•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  There  was  a  mix-up,"  said  Bar 
ton.  "  The  despatches  killed  the 
wrong  man." 

"  I  thought,"  ventured  Miss  Price, 
"  that  I  might  find  you  in  your 
khaki,  and  that  maybe  I  could  get 
a  little  special  portrait  of  you  here." 

"  You  must  let  me  off  to-day," 
returned  Barton.  "  I  've  just  shed 
my  troop  clothes.  I  'm  sick  of 
them  ! 

"  But  you  will  let  us  have  your 
belt  and  carbine,  or  something  for 
the  office  window." 

"  If  you  like  -  -  if  you  will  let  that 
go  instead  of  the  story.  I  have  n't 
the  carbine,  but  I  have  my  cartridge 
belt  and  revolver.  The  United  States 
sold  those  to  me." 

"Sold  them  to  you!"   cried   Miss 
Price,    resentfully.      "The  idea!" 
1 60 


THE     GIRL     <Sr    THE     GUARDSMAN 

Barton  laid  the  trophies  before  her, 
and  she  examined  them  with  great 
reverence. 

"  You  dorit  look  well,"  she  said, 
a  few  moments  later. 

"  Probably  not,"  returned  Barton. 

"You  will  let  me  put  down  a 
few  dates,  won't  you?"  Miss  Price 
pleaded. 

Barton  quickly  sketched  the  chron 
ology  of  his  military  life  -  -  that 
was  short  work,  after  all.  Two 
months  or  six  months  are  words 
quickly  said.  The  things  they  stand 
for  in  bodily  suffering,  in  deferred 
hopes,  in  tortured  patience,  in  bruised 
spirit,  are  another  matter. 

Barton  watched  her  languidly  as  she 
wrote  in  the  little  book,  and  when 
at  last  she  had  thanked  him,  and  had 

gone,   the  belt,  half  filled  with   Krag 
ii  161 


THE    GIRL    <fr    THE     GUARDSMAN 

cartridges,  and  the  revolver  under  her 
arm,  he  threw  himself  into  the  chair 
before  his  writing-desk  determined  to 
write  one  or  two  letters. 

He  was  in  the  middle  of  the  first 
letter,  when  there  was  another  knock, 
and  Hadleigh  came  in. 

"  This  is  very  reckless,  Hadleigh," 
he  said,  grasping  his  friend's  hand  — 
the  wounded  arm  hung  in  the  sling. 
"  You  should  be  in  bed,  I  suspect." 

"  Nonsense,  Barton.      It  is  nothing 

-though  I   don't  take  that  view  of 

it   with   regard  to    that  young    devil 

who  popped    at    me.     They  've    got 

him --that's  the  end  of  that." 

"  Not  for  him,"  suggested  Barton. 
"Sit  down,  Hadleigh.  I  hope  you 
have  n't  forgotten  how  to  be  at  home 
here.  Have  a  pipe  -  -  I'll  fill  it  for 
you." 

162 


THE     GIRL    <Sr    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  Never  mind  the  pipe,"  said  Had- 
leigh.  "  I  have  n't  reformed  or  any 
thing  like  that.  But  I  'm  not  up  to 
a  pipe  this  morning." 

"  How  's  the  arm  ?" 

"  Good  enough.  If  I  had  n't  tum 
bled  like  a  fool,  and  bled  there,  it 
would  n't  be  worth  mentioning. 
And  if  I  had  n't  got  your  compress 
when  I  did  I  probably  should  have 
had  the  queer  luck  to  knock  under 
altogether." 

"  Looks  as  if  Providence  had  n't 
finished  putting  us  through  stunts," 
said  Barton,  striding  into  the  far 
corner  and  out  of  it  again. 

Hadleigh  looked  about  him  with 
something  in  his  eyes  that  contra 
dicted  his  voice.  "  I  was  in  here 
one  day  —  about  a  month  ago,"  he 

said. 

163 


THE     GIRL    £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  So  Joe  was  saying,"  nodded 
Barton. 

"  And  it  gave  me  a  lump  in  the 
throat,  Ed,  to  look  around  the  place 
and  to  think  that  you  never  would 
come  back.  I  left  orders  once  more 
that  your  directions  should  be  re 
spected,  and  that  the  place  should 
be  untouched  until  Fanter  came  back 
from  Munich.  We  wrote  your 
obituary,  old  man." 

"  And  said  things  a  live  man  never 
can  live  up  to." 

"  I  did  n't  see  anything  that  was 
put  on  too  heavy." 

"  Probably,"   said    Barton,    with   a 
smile,  "that  picture  in    the    Express 
-  Joe  had  it  to  show   me  —  helped 
even  up  things.      I  don't  suppose  you 
could  speak  too  well  of  a  man  with 
that   portrait  in   sight." 
164 


THE     GIRL    <5r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  An  outrage,"  muttered  Hadleigh. 

"  I  am  to  be  done  again  to-day," 
Barton  added.  "  Writ  up,  and  drawn 
-  limb  from  limb  —  and  my  toys 
hung  in  the  window.  We  are 
whooping  things,  Hadleigh,  for  you 
will  be  in,  too,  with  the  would-be 
assassin.  Think  of  it.  I  am  to  play 
two  roles — the  returned  hero  and 
the  rescuer.  Could  anything  be 
more  engaging — more  completely 
satisfying  ?  ' 

"  I  see  you  are  not  well  yet, 
Barton." 

"  I  'm  well  enough." 

"  If  they  would  only  let  well 
enough  alone.  Here  I  am  bother 
ing  you  like  the  rest." 

Barton  shook  his  head  protestingly. 
"  I  guess  you  know  how  welcome 

you  are,    Hadleigh." 
165 


THE     GIRL    «&•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  When  I  was  here  that  day," 
Hadleigh  then  went  on,  "  I  had  the 
curiosity  to  lift  the  curtain  from  the 
picture  here.  I  had  seen  it  before, 
you  remember.  It  did  n't  mean  the 
same  thing  then.  The  situation  had 
changed  —  very  much." 

Barton  was  silent,  though  he 
moved  his  head  protestingly. 

"  Barton,"  continued  Hadleigh, 
looking  straight  before  him  into  the 
corner,  "  there  is  something  I  have 
come  to  speak  to  you  about.  Of 
course  we  could  n't  get  at  it  yester 
day  very  well.  I  was  your  friend, 
and  I  am  your  friend,  and  I  have 
the  rights  of  a  friend.  So  I  am  here 
now." 

Barton  twisted  in  his  chair. 

"  When  you  went  away  to  Manila," 
said  Hadleigh,  still  speaking  into  the 
1 66 


THE     GIRL    &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

corner,  "  you  were  engaged  to  be 
married  to  Edith  Lynwood." 

Barton  got  up,  wrenching  the 
chair  with  his  hand.  "  Hadleigh," 
he  returned  firmly,  "  you  were  my 
friend,  and  you  are  my  friend,  and 
you  will  please  change  the  subject." 

"  No,  Barton,  you  must  not  ask 
that.  There  is  something  I  have 
come  to  say.  I  have  the  right  to 
say  it.  I  shall  say  it." 

"  Even  at  my  expense,  Hadleigh  ? 
Even  if  I  insist  that  I  have  the  right 
to  ask  you  not  to  say  it  ?  " 

Hadleigh  faced  about  in  his  chair. 
"  Look  here,  Barton,  some  things 
won't  wait  for  settlement.  And 
there  are  other  rights  than  yours 
and  mine." 

"  As     for     that,    Hadleigh,    those 

other  rights  will    not  be    imperilled 

167 


THE     GIRL    <&•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

by  your  silence  at  this  time.  I 
know  all  that  you  would  say  to 
me.  Believe  me,  those  things  need 
not  be  said.  The  occasion  is  past." 

Barton  had  seated  himself  on  the 
edge  of  the  couch. 

"  Past  ?  "  Hadleigh  looked  up. 
"  Past  ?  How  can  the  occasion  be 
past  ? " 

"  Nevertheless,"  retorted  Barton, 
sternly,  "  it  is  past." 

"  Suppose  I  thought  differently, 
Barton."  Hadleigh  arose  and  lifted 
his  hand.  "  I  see  that  you  are  not 
well  to-day,  Barton.  God  knows, 
you  have  had  a  tough  time  of  it. 
I  understand  " 

"  You  would  do  wrong  to  think 
differently,"  broke  in  the  other,  his 
face  white.  "  You  should  take  my 
word -- without  forcing  me  to  say 

168 


THE     GIRL     <&•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

more.  I  have  spoken  very  plainly. 
I  have  said  that  -  -  that  there  is 
nothing  to  be  said." 

For  several  moments  there  was 
silence  between  them.  Barton  was 
breathing  heavily.  Hadleigh  stood 
near  the  veiled  portrait,  his  eyes  set 
upon  the  tortured  face  of  his  friend. 
Then  he  spoke  again. 

"  Barton,  I  went  to  see  her  this 
morning.  It  was  very  early.  I 
had  n't  been  able  to  sleep  — not  for 
the  arm,  but  for  thinking  of  this 
thing.  She  was  not  at  home.  The 
girl  did  n't  know  where  she  had 
gone,  but  I  got  it  into  my  head 
somehow  that  she  had  come  here." 

"  She  did  come  here." 

"  And  if  she  came  here,"  pro 
ceeded  Hadleigh,  resolutely,  "  her 

coming  was   not  without  a   meaning 
169 


THE    GIRL     &•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

—  a  meaning  which  I  have  the  right 
to  read.  Though  I  were  not  your 
friend,  Barton,  I  still  should  not 
wish  to  claim  the  hand  of  a  girl 
who  loved  another.  She  loves  you, 
Barton  "  - 

"  Hadleigh,  listen  to  me."  Bar 
ton  arose,  his  arms  crossed.  "  You 
have  claimed  the  rights  of  a  friend. 
You  have  urged  other  rights  than 
your  own.  Consider,  then,  whether 
you  are  acting  the  part  of  reason  and 
justice  and  friendship  in  refusing  to 
listen  to  me  when  I,  who  confess  to 
having  seen  her,  tell  you  that  you  have 
no  occasion  to  place  this  matter  be 
fore  me,  that  -  -  that  you  are  mis 
taken,  mistaken,  understand  me,  in 
questioning  her  love  for  you." 

Hadleigh  stirred  as  if  to  speak,  but 
the  other  checked  him. 
170 


THE     GIRL    &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  I  have  loved  her,  Hadleigh,  and 
surely  that  gives  me  the  right  to 
demand  of  you  an  unquestioning 
fulfilment  of  all  -  -  all  that  lies  in 
your  pledge  to  her."  Barton  made 
an  authoritative  gesture.  "  Can't  you 
see  the  cruelty  of  discussing  this  with 
me?" 

"  I  can  see  but  one  thing,"  re 
turned  Hadleigh  evenly,  with  some 
thing  both  of  pity  and  of  defiance  in 
his  tone,  "  and  that  is  that  I  have 
come  between  you.  If  I  am  privi 
leged  to  love  her,  Barton,  I  am 
privileged  to  resent  the  thought  of  a 
stigma,  of  any  accidental  advantage. 
I  am  not  blind.  I  know  what  has 
gone  before.  I  know  that  you  are  not 
a  man  to  love  lightly.  I  know  that 
you  are  not  a  man  whom  any  woman 

would    love   lightly.      I    know   what 

171 


THE     GIRL    £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

a  blunder  in  such  a  matter  must 
mean  for  everybody,  not  only  for 
the  man  and  the  woman,  but  for 
—  for  the  other  man.  You  choose 
to  ask  the  impossible  —  something 
that  you  would  n't  ask  of  an  enemy 
-that  he  should  pass  over,  put  aside, 
ignore  what  can't  be  ignored  " 

"  Look  here,  Hadleigh."  Barton 
came  over  and  put  his  hands  on  the 
other's  shoulders.  "  I  understand 
you.  I  thank  you.  I  believe  you 
are  my  friend.  You  are  worthy  of 
more  than  friendship.  But  look  at 
me.  Am  I  fit  to  be  reasoned  with  ? 
Am  I  fit  to  give  or  to  take  ?  Just 
drop  me  to-day.  You  are  doing 
yourself  an  injustice --you  are  doing 
us  all  an  injustice.  What  has  hap 
pened,  has  happened.  Each  of  us 
has  his  duty.  In  God's  name  let  us 
172 


THE     GIRL    £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

find  it  if  we  can.  But  leave  it  to 
me  to  say  that  now  is  not  the  time. 
Believe  me  when  I  tell  you  :  she  has 
spoken." 

"  She  has  spoken  ? "  repeated 
Hadleigh. 

"Yes,"  affirmed  Barton. 

Hadleigh  bowed  his  head,  then 
held  out  his  hand. 

When  presently  he  turned  to  go 
he  found  Mr.  Tibbetts  standing 
uneasily  on  the  threshold. 


173 


R.  TIBBETTS  ex 
perienced  a  mo 
ment  of  awkward 
suspense  on  en 
countering  Barton. 
Perhaps  he  had 
expected  to  re 
hearse  some  things 
a  little  further  before  formally  knock 
ing  at  the  door.  There  had  been 
time  for  rehearsal,  too,  but  no  one 
possibly  can  tell  just  what  he  wishes 
or  requires  to  say  until  he  faces  the 
menace  of  a  door. 
•74 


THE     GIRL    fir    THE     GUARDSMAN 

On  the  hallway  side  of  Barton's 
door  hung  a  slate  and  a  tethered 
pencil.  When  you  knocked  and 
got  no  answer  you  were  at  liberty  to 
leave  your  written  card  on  the  slate ; 
and,  if  you  suspected  his  unanswering 
presence,  you  might  add,  in  a  bold, 
indignant  hand  that  he  was  an  un 
grateful,  unsociable,  deceiving  scoun 
drel  or  other  mild  reproach  for  his 
silence,  and  go  away. 

Mr.  Tibbetts  stood  looking  at  the 
slate  for  fully  two  minutes,  and 
might  have  endured  three  before 
defiantly  knocking,  had  not  Hadleigh 
opened  the  door  to  go  out. 

"  Good-morning,"  said  Barton,  in 
a  voice  that  did  not  increase  Mr. 
Tibbetts's  personal  comfort.  "  Have 
a  chair." 

"Good-morning,  Barton,"  returned 
'75 


THE    GIRL    £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

the  visitor,  with  a  furtive  glance  at 
the  artist  as  he  said  a  last  word  to 
Hadleigh  in  the  hall. 

"  Fine  morning,"  resumed  Barton, 
as  he  turned  back.  His  tone  was 
sufficient  to  lower  the  temperature. 

"  Yes,"  admitted  Mr.  .Tibbetts 
taking  tentative  possession  of  the 
extreme  edge  of  one  of  Barton's 
dwarfed  black  chairs,  "  though  a  little 
cool,  I  think,  for  this  time  of  year." 

"Is  it?  I  hadn't  noticed,"  re 
marked  Barton,  striking  a  match 
sullenly.  "  I  'm  mixed  on  all  weather 
propositions  -  -  been  in  so  many 
longitudes  and  latitudes — and  lost 
the  track  of  seasons  so  long  that  I 
can't  measure  up  the  weather  any 
more." 

"  Yes,"  ventured  the  visitor. 
"That's  natural  too  —  quite  natural. 
.76 


THE     GIRL     «&•    THE    GUARDSMAN 

I  —  I  hope  you  are  feeling  very  well, 
Barton." 

"  I  can't  say,"  replied  the  younger 
man,  "  that  I  am  in  the  pink  of  con 
dition.  I  have  felt  better,  though  I 
am  doing  fairly.  Possibly  I  owe 
you  an  .apology,  Mr.  Tibbetts,  for 
my  continued  health." 

"  Don't  be  hard  on  me,  Barton. 
I  have  had  a  bad  night.  This  thing 
took  a  turn  I  did  not  expect,  and  I 
did  not  think  the  consequences  could 
be  so  —  so  serious.  I  would  make 
amends  if  I  could.  Please  God,  I 
shall  make  amends.  It  is  n't  too 
late  —  at  least  I  hope  it  is  n't  too 
late." 

Barton  shifted  his  feet  and  stared 
into  the  bowl  of  his  pipe.  "  I  don't 
see  what  amends  you  can  make,  Mr. 
Tibbetts.  I  don't  understand.  Your 


THE     GIRL    £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

anxiety  to  keep  me  out  of  sight 
until  twelve  o'clock  to-day  was  un 
necessary  after  all." 

"  Ah,  Barton  !  you  never  will 
understand  how  I  intended  that. 
You  make  it  appear  very  brutal.  It 
was  just  an  impulse,  you  know.  It 
did  n't  seem  at  the  first  as  if  it  could 
make  any  great  difference  -  -  how 
could  I  know  that  it  would  make 
any  difference  ?  And  you  did  n't 
listen  to  me --no,  I'm  not  saying 
a  word  of  blame." 

"  You  are  right,"  admitted  Barton, 
"  I  did  n't  listen  to  you." 

"  Listen  to  me  now,  Barton.  I  so 
despised  myself  for  that  selfish  weak 
ness  " 

"  Don't  speak  of  it,  Mr.  Tibbetts." 

"  I  will  speak  of  it,  Barton.  I 
must  tell  you  that  I  sent  a  message 


THE     GIRL    <£r    THE    GUARDSMAN 

this  morning  declining  the  election. 
I  could  n't  bring  myself " 

"  I  'm  sorry,"  declared  Barton. 
"  You  can't  mend  anything  by  giving 
up  a  great  business  opportunity.  You 
should  think  of- -of  Edith." 

"  Yes,  I  know,  Barton ;  it  is  like  you 
to  put  it  that  way.  But  she  never 
would  forgive  me  if  she  knew  ' 

"  Nonsense,"  Barton  interposed, 
"  why  should  she  know  ?  What 
difference  does  it  make  —  now  ?  It 
looks  to  me,  Mr.  Tibbetts,  as  if  you 
were  going  to  a  lot  of  useless  trouble 
to  make  yourself  miserable." 

The  old  man  was  twisting  his  hat 
between  his  hands.  "  Nevertheless," 
he  proceeded,  with  a  narrow  scru 
tiny  of  the  artist,  "  I  have  made  my 
decision.  Now  I  have  come  to  ask 

you    a   favor." 

179 


THE     GIRL     <5r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  Well,"  said  Barton,  getting  up, 
not  without  a  sign  of  impatience, 
"  if  it  is  something  short  of  suicide  I 
believe  I  will  grant  it  this  time,  just 
to  change  my  luck." 

"  I  want  you,  Barton,"  Mr.  Tib- 
betts  continued,  hewing  to  the  mark, 
"  I  want  you  to  help  me  straighten 
out  this  --  this  " 

"  Straightening  out,  Mr.  Tibbetts, 
does  n't  seem  to  be  exactly  in  my 
line  just  now.  I  think  perhaps  you 
are  laboring  under  an  error " 

"  It  is  you,  Barton,  who  are  labor 
ing  under  an  error.  My  boy,  you 
are  on  the  wrong  track."  This  was 
accompanied  by  a  constrained  effort 
to  smile.  "  The  wrong  track,  my 
boy." 

"  I  'm  not  on  any  track,"  retorted 
Barton.  "  I  'm  off  the  track,  down 
1 80 


THE     GIRL     <5r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

the  embankment,  head  on,  tele 
scoped,  deep  in  the  mud." 

"  Wait  a  moment,  Barton,  wait  a 
moment.  I  say  you  are  wrong.  You 
have  made  a  mistake.  She  has  made 
a  mistake.  It 's  a  ridiculous  mess  of 
a  mistake  all  the  way  through.  I 
can  prove  it.  I  shall  prove  it.  You 
shall  let  me  prove  it." 

"  Prove  it  ?     Prove  what  ? " 

"  Barton,  you  must  come  with 
me"- 

"  Not  to  the  "  - 

"  Yes,  to  the  house.  —  Hold  on  ! 
You  shall  come  with  me  and  let  me 
prove  " 

Both  men  were  standing,  the  older 
with  a  flushed  face  and  an  importun 
ing  hand  extended ;  the  younger 
showing  a  kind  of  wearied  scorn  with 
something  of  a  fierce  humor. 

181 


THE    GIRL    <5r    THE    GUARDSMAN 

"  Really,  Mr.  Tibbetts,"  inter 
rupted  Barton,  "  I  find  it  hard  to  fol 
low  you.  You  are  so  unexpected. 
We  each  have  our  own  notion  of  a 
joke.  I  somehow  lost  your  point  yes 
terday.  To-day  you  are  even  more 
perplexing.  Why  not  let  the  matter 
drop  ?  I  'm  not  holding  any  grudge 
against  you.  I  have  annoyed  you  by 
being  alive  when  I  should  have  stayed 
dead.  If  I  had  it  all  to  do  again  I 
should  try  to  arrange  it  differently. 
But  that  can't  be  helped  now.  You 
have  agreed  not  to  hold  any  grudge 
against  me.  I  ask  nothing  of  you. 
Why  not  let  the  case  rest  there?" 

The  old  man  drew  his  lips  to 
gether  and  glared  at  Barton,  with  a 
moist  fury. 

"  Damn  it,  Barton  !  Don't  you 
understand !  I  tell  you  this  whole 
182 


THE     GIRL    Gr    THE     GUARDSMAN 

thing  's  a  mistake.  Edith  was  under 
a  misapprehension  —  and  you  were 
all  wrong  —  and --but  you  won't 
believe  me.  I  can  do  better.  I 
can  prove  it.  But  I  must  ask  you 
to  come  with  me.  Is  that  unreason 
able  ?  Is  proof  so  unimportant  to 
you  ?  Are  you  so  tremendously 
happy  that " 

"  O,  you  could  n't  fancy  how  soli 
citous  every  one  is  for  my  comfort 
and  happiness,"  flung  Barton,  strik 
ing  another  match.  "  It  has  touched 
me  deeply." 

Mr.  Tibbetts  stood  hopelessly  si 
lent  for  a  moment,  still  twisting  his 
hat. 

"  Barton,  do  you  mean  to  say  "  — 

The  artist  interrupted  him.     "  Mr. 
Tibbetts,  if  you  have  any  regret   for 
anything    that     you     have     done  — 
183 


THE     GIRL    <Sr     THE     GUARDSMAN 

though  I  assure  you  I  can't  see  how 
you  are  to  blame  for  —  anything  that 
has  happened  —  why,  ask  me  some 
other  sort  of  favor." 

"  You  refuse  to  go,  Barton  ? " 

The  younger  man  shrugged  his 
shoulders.  "  You  must  not  ask  me 
to  go,  Mr.  Tibbetts.  I  never  could 
straighten  out  anything  for  you. 
I  'm  not  feeling  that  way  just  now. 
I  'd  only  make  everything  worse  for 
you." 

Mr.  Tibbetts  walked  to  the  door 
with  a  quick  step,  his  hands  behind 
him.  He  paused  for  a  few  seconds 
under  the  Turkish  blade.  Then  he 
caught  at  the  door  and  went  out 
quickly. 

Once  in  the  street  he  proceeded 
to  take  a  turn  around  the  square. 
He  must  think  of  some  other  way 
184 


THE     GIRL     &•    THE    GUARDSMAN 

of  reaching  Barton.  The  one  sure 
way  to  make  matters  right  was  to 
bring  them  together  -  -  Edith  and 
Barton  —  somehow.  But  what  was 
to  be  done  with  a  fellow  so  incor 
rigible  as  Barton  ?  The  very  man 
who  most  needed  a  convincing  dem 
onstration  of  his  error  was  the  man 
who  would  not  make  the  conditions 
possible. 

During  Mr.  Tibbetts's  circuit  of  the 
square,  and  while  Barton  stood  at  the 
door  pondering  grimly  upon  the  gro 
tesque  procession  of  his  day's  visitors, 
and  how,  indeed,  he  might  hope  to 
find  the  peace  that  seemed  to  have 
gone  from  him  beyond  recall,  there 
was  another  tap  on  the  door.  He 
nervously  started,  frowned  at  his 
weakness  and  stood  rebelliously 

motionless,    determined    in   the    first 

185 


THE     GIRL    <Sr    THE     GUARDSMAN 

moment  to  refer  this  new  intruder 
to  the  slate. 

The  tap  was  repeated  shortly  with 
a  sharp  interrogatory  emphasis  that 
seized  his  attention  and  held  it. 
Something  in  the  sound  made  him 
think  it  had  been  produced  by  a 
woman. 

However  this  feeling  may  have 
influenced  him,  he  suddenly  growled, 
"  Come  in  !  " 

It  was  Amanda  Maud,  wearing  the 
same  light  dress  she  had  worn  the 
day  before,  and  a  curiously  casual, 
boyish  soft  hat,  in  which  there  was  an 
adjustment  purely  Amanda's  own. 

Amanda  did  not  seem  startled  to 
find  Barton  at  the  brink  of  the  room, 
his  hand  against  the  wall,  looking 
quietly  at  her  as  she  came  out  of 
the  passage. 

1 86 


//  was 
Maud 


THE     GIRL    6*    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  Good-morning,"  said  Amanda. 

"  Good-morning,"  returned  Bar 
ton,  without  moving.  "  The  artist 
is  in." 

"  So  I  see,"  ventured  Amanda. 
"  Don't  you  think  you  could  ask 
me  in  for  just  a  minute  ? " 

"  You've  got  to  come  in,"  declared 
Barton.  "  I  Ve  been  wishing  you  'd 
come.  It  has  been  so  dull  here 
to-day." 

Amanda  measured  him  with  her 
undismayed  eyes.  He  was  pretty 
hard  to  understand. 

"  I  just  dropped  in,"  she  said,  "  to 
say  that"- 

"  Don't  apologize,"  insisted  Bar 
ton.  "  It 's  all  right." 

"  Is  it  ?  "  She  watched  him  as  he 
searched  through  the  pigeon-holes 

of  the  old  desk  for  something  which 

187 


THE    GIRL    <£r     THE     GUARDSMAN 

it  had  occurred  to  him  to  look  for. 
"  Well,  I  wanted  to  say,  if  you  '11 
excuse  me,  that  you  're  an  awful  fool." 

Barton  turned  about  slowly. 

"  Now,  do  you  know,"  he  said, 
"  I  am  hardly  prepared  to  contradict 
you." 

"  You  know  what  I  mean,"  went 
on  Amanda,  "  any  man  might  be 
taken  that  way." 

"  In  that  case,"  said  Barton,  turn 
ing  again  to  the  pigeon-holes,  "  I 
need  n't  take  the  thing  as  so  per 
sonal,  I  needn't  feel  so  badlv." 

j 

"  I  don't  want  to  make  nobody 
feel  bad,"  said  Amanda,  "  and  I 
know  it  ain't  none  of  my  business, 
but  I  just  took  it  into  my  head  " 

"  To  come  and  tell  me  I  was  a 
fool,"  returned  Barton.  "  It  is  very 
pleasant  and  thoughtful  of  you." 

188 


THE     GIRL    £r     THE    GUARDSMAN 

"  O,  wait !  "  commanded  the  girl, 
"  I  did  come  to  say  that,  because  you 
are.  I  guess  you  know  you  are. 
You  don't  suppose  I  'd  ever  believe 
she  was  wrong,  do  you  ? " 

The  girl  walked  to  the  middle  of 
the  floor.  Barton  faced  her,  a  ming 
ling  of  annoyance  and  amusement  in 
his  eyes.  It  came  to  him  to  wonder 
at  the  moment  whether  everything 
that  was  happening  actually  had  a 
fantastic  flavor,  or  whether  his  ab 
normal  condition  was  twisting  the 
ordinary  and  reasonable  into  these 
peculiar  shapes. 

"  Go  on,"  he  said.  "  You  've 
come  to  say  something.  Say  it. 
I  'm  listening,  and  I  'm  very  much 
interested." 

"  I  know  how  you  men  are,"  pur 
sued  Amanda,  with  some  sign  of 
189 


THE     GIRL    &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

debate  as  to  her  procedure.  "  You 
get  a  thing  into  your  head  and 
nobody  can  get  it  out.  You  can't 
get  it  out  yourselves.  It  just  gets 
wedged  in." 

"  Well  ?  "  queried  Barton.  "  Is 
this  what  you  came  to  tell  me  ? " 

"Yep,"   said  Amanda,   shortly, - 
"  and  to  hand  you  this." 

Barton  stared  at  the  locket  which 
she  placed  in  his  palm.  It  was  the 
locket. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  de 
manded.  "  Did  n't  you  "  -then  he 
checked  himself.  She  must  have 
delivered  it,  for  Edith  had  held  it. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  remarked 
Amanda  by  a  master  stroke  of 
evasion,  "that  if  I  was  a  man, 
and  I  had  a  locket  handed  to  me 
like  this,  and  I  was  told  to  come,  I 
190 


THE     GIRL     £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

would    know    by    that    that     I    was 
to   come." 

"  Do  you  mean  "    -  began  Barton. 

But  Amanda  could  trust  herself  no 
further.  She  had  reached  the  end 
of  her  device,  and  she  fled  without 
another  syllable,  leaving  Barton  to 
stare  at  the  little  gleaming  symbol 
in  his  hand. 

The  haste  of  Amanda's  departure 
might  well  have  been  attended  with 
serious  consequences,  for  in  the  dim 
light  of  the  landing  she  ran  full 
against  Mr.  Tibbetts.  It  was  only 
by  the  quick  strength  of  her  own 
plump  right  hand  that  a  real  catas 
trophe  was  averted. 

"  Amanda  !  "  was  all  that  the  old 
man  had  breath  to  say  as  he  peered 
after  her  into  the  depths  of  the  stair 
way. 

191 


THE     GIRL    £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

Barton  heard  the  scuffle  through 
his  open  door,  though  in  the  sudden 
whirl  of  a  new  and  startling  thought 
it  may  scarcely  be  said  to  have  defi 
nitely  drawn  his  attention. 

The  locket  and  a  summons  !  This 
was  as  absurdly  grotesque  as  all  the 
rest. 

When  Mr.  Tibbetts,  panting  from 
the  climb  and  the  collision,  and  a 
trifle  dishevelled,  strode  to  the  execu 
tion  of  his  last  appeal,  determined  to 
lay  everything  before  Barton,  he 
found  the  artist  incomprehensibly 
paused  with  his  back  to  the  door. 

"  Barton"     -  began  the  old  man. 

The  artist  slipped  something  into 
the  pocket  of  his  coat,  strode  across 
the  studio  and  reached  for  a  hat  that 
hung  upon  a  deer's  antlers.  The  hat 

was  covered   with   dust,   and   Barton 

192 


THE     GIRL    <Sr    THE     GUARDSMAN 

struck  it  across  the  edge  of  the  couch, 
then  brushed  it  absently  with  his 
sleeve. 

"  Mr.  Tibbetts,"  he  said  when  he 
had  faced  about,  "  I  should  like  to 
go  out  home  with  you,  if  you  don't 
mind." 


13 


Part? 


T  was  Amanda  Maud's  con 
viction  that  she  had  left 
the  house  unobserved  on 
this  sensational  excursion. 
But  the  supposition  was 
inaccurate.  Edith  saw  her 
steal  across  the  garden  and  out  of  the 
lane  gate.  She  also  saw  the  girl 
return  after  an  inexplicable  hour ; 
and  presently  Amanda  took  occasion 
to  be  audibly  and  visibly  present 

about   the  house.      Her  transition  to 
194 


THE    GIRL     £r     THE    GUARDSMAN 

the  house  dress  was  one  of  those 
paradoxes  of  feminine  celerity  over 
which  even  Edith  might  have  mar 
velled  had  she  been  more  alert  to 
impressions. 

The  fact  is  that  Amanda's  departure 
had  aroused  neither  her  curiosity  nor 
her  resentment  —  it  was  absence  with 
out  leave —  for  at  the  moment  Edith 
was  incapable  of  holding  a  normal 
attitude  toward  anything  that  passed 
about  her.  Since  the  initial  catas 
trophe  of  the  day  before,  when,  after 
a  period  of  wretched  debate,  she 
had,  as  she  believed,  sent  Hadleigh 
away,  perhaps  in  anger,  a  harsh  un 
reality  had  begun  to  appear  in  every 
thing  that  happened.  Barton's  first 
note  regarding  Hadleigh's  injuries, 
scrawled  on  the  back  of  her  own 
paper,  which  lay  on  the  hall  table 
'95 


THE     GIRL    6-    THE     GUARDSMAN 

when  she  came  in  after  a  half-hour's 
absence,  produced  an  effect  which 
its  writer  could  not  have  expected. 
It  was  simply  incredible.  Indeed, 
it  evoked  an  hysterical  laugh.  It 
was  the  note  with  the  locket  which 
Amanda  handed  to  her  so  soon  after, 
that  completed  the  circuit  of  this 
terrible  new  reality  and  left  her  dazed 
and  helpless. 

She  went  to  her  writing  table  and 
read  again  the  lines  he  had  sent  to 
her. 

I  no  longer  have  the  right  to  carry  this 
trinket.  If,  in  sending  it  back,  I  am 
tempted  to  say  that  in  all  my  suffering  it 
has  been  a  sign  to  me  of  something  to 
which  it  now  seems  that  1  was  wrong  in 
holding  fast,  you  must  not  take  this  for 
reproach  or  bitterness.  I  should  have 
fallen  without  it.  I  must  not  forget 
that.  What  you  have  done  you  have 
196 


THE    GIRL    £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

believed  to  be  right.     I   must  not  forget 
that  either. 

EDWIN   BARTON. 

This  was  what  she  had  lived  with 
for  the  whole  of  a  night,  until  the 
deliberate  dawn  released  her  to  the 
action  of  another  day.  When  she 
had  stolen  away  to  the  studio,  it  was 
to  verify  by  the  contact  of  her  senses 
the  incredible  tragedy  of  this  change. 

After  that  everything  had  ended. 
Nothing  was  what  it  had  been.  She 
did  not  recognize  herself.  Amanda, 
watching  her  stealthily,  plainly  was 
caught  up  by  the  whimsical  current 
of  the  transformation.  Uncle  Amos 
was  a  parody  of  himself. 

The  hall  clock  was  striking  noon 
when  Edith  found  herself  pinning  on 
her  hat.  She  was  startled  by  her 

own  face  in  the  mirror.      When  she 

i97 


THE    GIRL     «5-    THE     GUARDSMAN 

reached  the  porch  she  knew  that  she 
was  going  to  see  Hadleigh.  Some 
how  that  had  begun  to  seem  like  a 
duty.  She  had  humiliated  herself  to 
Barton.  She  herself  would  lollow 
the  sympathetic  note  she  had  sent  to 
Hadleigh.  She  would  contradict,  at 
whatever  cost,  any  suspicion  Hadleigh 
might  have  of  her  want  of  feeling ; 
she  would  show  him  that  if  friend 
ship  could  fall  into  error,  it  could  be 
steadfast,  that  if  it  hurt  in  being  true 
to  itself,  it  could  bind  up  the  result 
ing  wound  with  an  affectionate  and 
a  patient  hand. 

After  all,  Hadleigh  was  not  at 
home.  His  mother,  looking  into 
Edith's  white  face,  said  he  had  in 
sisted  on  going  into  the  city,  and 
possibly  had  gone  from  there  to  the 

works.       They     had     regretted     not 

198 


THE     GIRL    &    THE     GUARDSMAN 

being  able  to  detain  him.  Would  n't 
Edith  sit  down  a  while  ? 

No,  she  had  come  to  ask  after  his 
wound.  Evidently  he  was  better. 
But  he  should  be  careful. 

As  briefly  as  might  be,  Edith  re 
ceived  Mrs.  Hadleigh's  motherly 
questioning,  met  the  motherly  eyes 
that  read  the  trouble  behind  her 
own,  and  turned  homeward  again 
her  heart  deadly  heavy,  her  head 
throbbing. 

"  She  is  n't  quiet  a  minute  !  "  mur 
mured  Amanda  at  the  dining-room 
window  when  she  saw  Edith  at  the 
gate.  "  Somebody  '11  just  have  to 
put  her  to  bed." 

Mr.  Tibbetts  and  Barton  came  out 
on  the  trolley. 

Mr.    Tibbetts    became    more   and 

more   chipper   in    a    momentum    of 

199 


THE     GIRL     £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

altruistic  satisfaction.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  he  looked  over  at  the 
chimneys  of  the  works  without  a 
twinge.  He  had  made  a  great  sac 
rifice,  but  he  had  made  a  splendid 
atonement. 

He  poured  out  upon  Barton  a 
flood  of  local  gossip  without  observ 
ing  that  the  artist  yielded  but  indif 
ferent  attention  to  the  narrative. 
From  gossip  he  turned  to  reminis 
cence,  and  he  was  in  the  midst  of  a 
joke --rather  disjointedly  put  for 
ward --about  the  time  they  went 
fishing  over  to  Pine  Lake,  when  they 
came  in  sight  of  the  house. 

At  this  Mr.  Tibbetts's  genial  ex 
citement  visibly  rose. 

"  Barton,   you  '11    be    in    time    for 
dinner  !  -  -  we  still  dine  in  the  middle 
of  the  day,  you  know." 
200 


THE     GIRL    &•    THE    GUARDSMAN 

Barton  was  enigmatically  silent. 

"  O,  I  've  got  a  surprise  for  you, 
my  boy  !  Going  to  do  it  my  own 
way.  No  wrangling,  no  argument, 
no  trying  to  force  you  to  understand. 
Just  you  wait." 

"  I  've  been  sufficiently  surprised," 
was  all  that  Barton  would  say  to  this. 
He  did  not  trust  Tibbetts.  He  would 
not  --at  least  on  that  day  —  have  ac 
cepted  entry  into  the  finest  prospect 
the  old  man  might  have  promised 
to  him.  But  the  locket  .  .  . 

Mr.  Tibbetts  had  not  planned  the 
details  of  his  atoning  interview.  He 
was  too  confident  to  feel  the  need  for 
any  subtlety  of  approach.  Undoubt 
edly  it  was,  in  the  legal  phrase, 
simply  a  case  of  bringing  the  parties 
together. 

"  Edith  !     Where  are  you  ? "  he  all 

20 1 


THE     GIRL    «&•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

but  shouted  as  soon  as  they  were 
within  the  house. 

Amanda  stood  at  the  top  of  the 
stair.  "Miss  Edith's  in  the  sitting- 
room,  Mr.  Tibbetts." 

Barton  winced  at  Tibbetts's  exuber 
ant  precipitation.  Yet  this  was  a 
contradictory  emotion,  for,  now  that 
he  was  in  the  house,  now  that  he 
stood  so  near  her  again,  he  could 
have  brushed  the  old  man  aside  and 
sprung  into  her  presence  without 
weighing  anything. 

As  it  was,  he  fell  behind  Tibbetts, 
saw  the  old  man  part  the  curtains, 
and  heard  him  call  his  niece's  name 
again. 

"  Yes,  uncle." 

The  girl  answered  absently,  expect 
ing  nothing  more  exciting  or  momen 
tous  than  some  fretful  inquiry. 


202 


THE     GIRL    <S~    THE     GUARDSMAN 

But  Mr.  Tibbetts  went  on  in  a 
restrained  excitement  which  could 
not  at  once  have  appeared  to  the 
girl.  "  Edith,  I  wish  to  say  a  word 
to  you  about  yesterday." 

"  I  wish  you  would  not  speak  of 
it,  uncle,"  was  her  wearily  resent 
ful  answer,  and  Barton  longed  for 
the  privilege  of  projecting  some 
large,  heavy  object  at  the  old  man's 
head. 

"  I  must,  Edith,"  continued  Mr. 
Tibbetts,  crossing  and  recrossing  the 
room.  "  A  great  injustice  has  been 
done  and  I  am  to  blame  ? " 

"You,  uncle?" 

Edith,  her  chin  on  her  hand,  was 
staring  out  of  the  window. 

The  old  man  turned  to  make  a 
gesture  which  commanded  Barton  to 

enter    the    room.      His   face    wore    a 

203 


THE    GIRL    £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

gayety  of  excitement  reflecting  his 
estimate  of  this  procedure  as  a  stroke 
of  genius. 

"  You  told  him,  Edith,"  pursued 
Mr.  Tibbetts,  coming  close  to  her 
and  finally  taking  a  seat  near  by, 
"  you  told  him  that  you  could  not 
receive  him  again  as  your  lover,  that 
you  could  not  marry  him,  because  " 

"  Because  I  did  not  love  him, 
uncle." 

"  Yes,  yes,  and  you  went  further." 

"  I  said  that  I  really  had  loved  but 
one  man  " 

"  Yes,  Edith." 

"  And  that  I  never  could  love  any 
but  him." 

"  Ah,  yes,  but  he  did  n't  hear  you 
say  that,  because  he  went  away,  which 
was  very  foolish  of  him,  very  foolish, 
and  entirely  to  his  own  blame.  No- 

204 


THE    GIRL    <5r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

body  told  him  to  go.     And,  Edith, 

- 1   want  to  have  this  very  plain  - 
when  you   spoke   of  the  one  man  - 
the   one    man    you    really    had    loved 
you   know  "     -  Mr.  Tibbetts  put  his 
hand    gently   upon   her  arm --"you 
meant " 

"  I  meant  my  soldier." 

"  Barton,  yes,  yes.  Then  you  were 
talking  to  " 

Edith  turned  her  drawn  face  toward 
that  of  her  uncle.  "  Why  are  you 
rambling  in  this  way,  uncle?  Did 
you  not  see  Marcus  go?" 

"  Then  you  were  sending  away 
Hadleigh  -  -  Hadleigh,  whom  you 
had  expected  to  meet  " 

"  I  was  telling  him  that  I  did  not 
love  him,  uncle --and  to  think  that 
he  should  go  away  in  that  mood  and 
be  hurt  !  " 

205 


THE     GIRL    £r    THE    GUARDSMAN 

Mr.  Tibbetts  felt  rather  than  saw 
Barton's  movement.  Pie  sprang  up. 

"  But  suppose,  my  dear,  suppose 
that  it  was  not  Hadleigh  who  heard 
you,  suppose  that  an  old  scoundrel  of 
an  uncle  who  did  n't  intend  it,  but 
somehow  did  do  it,  let  you  think  that 
it  was  Hadleigh,  and  that  it  was  " 

She  had  caught  the  look  in  his 
eye,  and  drew  herself  tremblingly 
out  of  the  chair  until  she  discovered 
Barton,  pale,  stupefied,  in  the  middle 
of  the  floor. 

"  Edwin  !  " 

"  My  God  !  "  cried  Barton,  with 
something  like  a  sob  as  he  caught 
her.  "  Then  all  of  my  fever  dreams 
are  over ! ' 

He  held  her  strongly  as  if  in  a 
sudden  fear  that  it  was  a  trick,  kissing: 

o 

her  lips,  her  eyes,  her  hair. 

206 


THE    GIRL    6-    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  Ahem  !  "  came  from  Mr.  Tibbetts. 

For  an  instant  Barton,  imprisoning 
Edith's  head  on  his  shoulder,  looked 
over  at  the  old  man. 

"  Go  on,  Barton,"  urged  Tibbetts 
catching  the  look.  "  Don't  spare 
my  feelings.  Say  it  —  say  what  you 
are  thinking  of  me — I  am  a  damned 
scoundrel." 

But  somehow  Barton  only  smiled 
and  kissed  Edith  again,  after  putting 
her  away  at  arm's  length  for  a 
moment,  and  drawing  her  close  once 
more  in  an  ecstasy  of  possession. 

"  You  have  spoken,  uncle,"  said 
Edith  with  the  old  twinkle  in  her 
eyes  that  made  Barton  to  under 
stand  that  she  was  a  dream  come 
true. 

"Though     I    will    say "     -began 

Uncle  Amos  at  the  door. 

207 


THE     GIRL    £r    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  nodded  Barton. 

And  Uncle  Amos  quietly  went 
out. 

Almost  at  the  same  moment, 
Amanda  Maud,  suspiciously  unem 
barrassed,  appeared  at  the  other 
door. 

"  O,  dear  !  "  she  cried,  "  that  fool 
of  a  Joe  Gribsey  's  gone  and  forgotten 
this  letter,  and  it  was  tremenjus  im 
portant,  Mr.  Tibbetts  said." 

Barton  held  out  his  hand  for  the 
letter  Amanda  had  found  on  the  back 
porch,  upon  which  the  sitting-room 
windows  opened.  It  bore  the  address 
of  the  Fordwell  Company. 

"When  did  he  give  it  to  Joe?" 
asked  Barton. 

"This   morning  —  about   an    hour 
and    a    half  ago,    I    guess.      He    told 
him  it  was   in  a  hurry  and    would  n't 
208 


THE     GIRL    &•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

be   no    use    unless    it    was    delivered 
before  twelve  o'clock." 

"  I  see,"  said  Barton,  tearing  up 
the  unopened  letter.  "  It  's  after 
twelve  o'clock  now  —  and  this  is 
better  than  Uncle  Amos  deserves." 

"Did  I  hear  my  name?"  asked 
Uncle  Amos,  returning. 

"You  did,"  admitted  Barton.  "  I 
was  saying  that  it  is  better  than  you 
deserve.  There  is  your  declination 
of  the  Vice-Presidency  in  small 
pieces  on  the  floor.  It  is  after 
twelve  o'clock,  and  you  are  elected. 
So  am  I.  Let  us  forget  everything 
that  is  disagreeable." 

"  My  dear  boy,"  cried  Uncle  Amos, 
coming  forward  with  outstretched 
hands. 

"  It 's  all  right,"  said  Barton.   "  The 
world's  coming  to  its  old  senses." 
H  209 


THE     GIRL    fir    THE     GUARDSMAN 

"  Shall  we  go  in  to  dinner  ? "  asked 
Edith.  "  Of  course  I  can't  eat  " 

It  was  thus  that  Barton  came  to 
dine  in  his  old  place,  with  Edith  to 
look  at,  as  on  that  day  before  he 
joined  his  troop.  There  was  so 
much  to  talk  about  that  Amanda 
Maud  found  occasion  to  remark  to 
herself  that  some  folks  did  n't  seem 
to  know  what  victuals  were  for. 
Uncle  Amos  repeatedly  sought  to 
reassure  himself  that  everything  was, 
as  Barton  had  said,  "  all  right." 

"  You  can  see  how  it  happened, 
Barton  !  "  he  would  say. 

It  was  while  they  had  the  grapes 
that  Uncle  Amos  was  observed  sud 
denly  to  have  become  very  quiet. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  about, 
uncle?"  demanded  Edith. 

"  I    was   just    thinking,    my    dear, 


2  1O 


THE     GIRL     £r    THE    GUARDSMAN 

that    your    mother    was    married    in 
October." 

Edith  laughed  a  soft,  happy  laugh, 
and  Barton  getting  up  quickly,  came 
around  the  table  and  kissed  her  three 
times. 

Hadleigh  walked  up  the  path  with 
something  of  the  soldier  tread,  a  res 
olute  look  in  his  face. 

They  saw  him  from  the  library  win 
dow.  Edith,  rising  quickly,  placed 
her  hand  on  Barton's  shoulder  to  in 
dicate  that  he  should  remain  where 
he  was,  and  hurried  to  the  door. 

Presently  —  Barton  could  not  have 
measured  the  interval,  for  his  thoughts 
went  wide  as  the  minutes  ran  — 
they  came  back  together,  Edith  and 
Hadleigh. 

Without    a    word    the     two    men 


THE    GIRL    <&•    THE     GUARDSMAN 

clasped  hands.  Then  Hadleigh  spoke. 
"  I  have  just  been  telling  Edith,"  he 
said,  with  a  shadowed  smile,  "  that  the 
Company  wishes  me  to  make  a  trip 
to  Oregon.  Just  as  soon  as  this  arm 
is  well  I  shall  be  going." 

"  And  I  have  been  telling  him," 
murmured  Edith,  speaking  to  Barton, 
her  hand  resting  gently  on  Hadleigh's 
arm,  "  that  near  or  far  he  always  will 
be  the  noblest  of  friends." 


"'J&&&. 


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